Tastes like Fox!

Here's an important tip for all boys, and for men who never stop thinking like boys, to keep in their bag of tricks. It's free, easy, and works every time. This is what happened the first time I did it...

Meandering slowly down a footpath in the Virginia woods on that breezy Spring day, sharp sunlight knifed unpredictably through the high leaf canopy overhead, allowing moments of intense light to tease our skin with it's warmth. I was a young guy in my early twenties, there with my girlfriend and my mother. All of us were visiting my Grandparents that day, enjoying grandpa's woods. I had invited Mom to walk with us to get some air, taking advantage of the opportunity for the ladies to get to know each other.

As we poked along on a small stone trail, the girls fell behind, lost in the sun mottled colors of a patch of wild flowers that expressed their joy in an explosion of reds and yellows. I took that opportunity to unwrap the Tootsie Roll that I had tucked into my jeans pocket earlier in the morning and pop it into my mouth. A few quick chews made it ready for me to spit out onto a large rock in the center of our path.

Turning quickly back to the where the ladies were lost in those spring flowers, we all continued to poke along, with no particular agenda other than to enjoy the moment. As we approached the rock where my Tootsie Roll sat prominently on display, I was ready for some fun.

Pointing out the spot, I said excitedly: “Oh look, animal droppings! They look fresh too!”

Kneeling down as the ladies hovered overhead, I pushed a finger into the goo. “They're still warm!” Mother said: “Oh Hugh...”

I continued: “I think they're from a fox, some small meat eater anyway. No bug exoskeletons like you see in toad or bat excrement. Definitely a small carnivore. Most likely a Fox.”

Mother and Stephanie stood above me, mute, seemingly impressed by my fecal analysis and repulsed by my finger full of wet animal shit hovering in the air between us.

Without pausing, I popped my finger into my mouth and licked it clean.

Grinning up at them, lips and teeth smeared with wet chunks of brown shit I said: “Yup, it's definitely a Fox. A red female with kits. You can tell from the acidity.”

Both were horrified, speechless, and I like to think, a little bit impressed. Certainly they had bonded in an unspoken agreement that I was deeply disturbed in ways that were new to both of them, Mother and girlfriend, instantly on the same page, knowing without words that this particular son and boyfriend badly needed help.

 Rushing ahead to rinse off in the stream that I knew to be just up the trail, I was grinning like a fool, hardly able to contain my pure joy, giddy in the moment.