Red Ben, the Fox of Oak Ridge

by Joseph Wharton Lippincott

Red Ben found a possum carrying his bed along with him. Instead of holding the grass in his mouth as a squirrel would, he wrapped his queer tail around a big pile of it. Whenever he came across some more material that was suitable, he stopped, picked it up with a front foot and, reaching under his body, tucked it also into the bundle. The tail was curved down and then under his body, so the ends of the grass stuck out on each side, making him look, from the rear, like a little haystack wandering about.

Possum Tracks

It was not difficult to get food. There were still acorns under the oaks and fruit under the wild apple and persimmon trees. Red Ben, who of course knew nothing of this part of the country, found the trees by following the trails of the creatures that lived in the neighborhood. He looked for wild ducks as he later travelled down the edge of the stream, but found them too wild to be caught. The farther he went the more ducks he saw. The stream was joining other streams and getting wider and wider, until suddenly it came out of the woods and wound through a flat stretch of grass land.

There was now a different scent in Red Ben’s nostrils, a dull roar always in his ears. He had reached the salt marshes, close to the ocean; just beyond them were the waves of the Atlantic hurling themselves on the hard beach of sand. Here were coon tracks in all directions, but no signs of other woods animals.

Red Ben trotted cautiously to the big sand dunes that edged the beach. Beyond them was the roar he had heard all the way from the woods. Climbing the soft sand, he looked over the top of the dunes and saw before him the Ocean, stretching as far as his eye could travel. For a long while he stood there watching the waves. Then he saw a fox, a gray, trotting along the beach. It was not afraid; why should he be cautious?

Down the dune he loped and over the hard, shell studded beach, to the very edge of the water. The gray walked forward to meet him, saw he was a stranger and at once put on all the hostile airs he could.

Red Ben, however, was not surprised. By this time he knew a good deal about gray foxes. He walked around the other, eyeing him sharply, but giving him every chance to attack if he wanted to. The gray was fooled. With a snarl he leaped at the apparently stupid red, only to be met by a blaze of teeth. The fight was over in a moment. The gray did not stop running until he had the big sand dunes between him and that red whirlwind.

Red Ben found crabs, fish, snails and clams washed up on the beach. He had never seen so much food. Some he ate, and some he carried to the dunes and buried for future use. He did not know that a new supply was washed in by every tide. Soon, however, he gave up the idea of burying all the fish he found; there were hundreds of them! Here indeed was the place in which to live and hunt—no traps, no hounds, no hunger. Red Ben sprang into the air in pure joy and raced down the beach and back again, and in and out of the dunes, and then off to the woods to find a resting place for the day.

All through January and the first weeks of cold February he lived by the sea. Then one warm night the loneliness came upon him again. The woods were wet and sweet, the ground was thawing; Spring seemed in the air. Instead of going to the beach, he wandered about the woods and then started West, towards the Pine Barrens. Often he stopped, but always trotted on again; something was calling him. Was it the sunny Ridge, so far from the angry winds and mists of the ocean? Red Ben did not know, but each hour brought him nearer.