Dummy Fox

The would-be farmer painted and soldered together scraps of metal and hooked them onto an armature. A mop head, worn and fluffy, served for the tail

and he used some old rubber booties for the feet just to be whimsical. This was all to keep the birds away from his modest suburban vegetable plot,

after his off-the-shelf scarecrow proved worthless. He welcomed the birds in the off-season and religiously supplied them with seed

but was getting annoyed at their pilfering his crops. They were no dummies, though. Curious, they swarmed near the would-be

fox and caught on very quickly, decorating its head with droppings and pecking at its head as if daring it to come to life.

More discouraging, they went about their usual business of dining on lettuce, tomatoes, pepper, and corn, growing

fat, lazy, and complacent, practically setting up shop on the man’s property. All went well for them and poorly

for the homeowner until one morning as they nibbled on the newly ripening tomatoes, he noticed an actual red fox

bolt from the woods. Most of the flock escaped but it made short shrift of a blackbird, too heavy, slow,

and flustered to fly away in time. The next day, he saw the same or another fox lurking about and the birds watching

warily until it left and they could resume their dining. In the end, he decided to cut his losses by harvesting the balance,

renouncing vegetable gardening, setting out feeders for the birds early, and investing in a shotgun for the unexpected.