Outfoxed by Br'er Rabbit

In 1961, my family moved to Milford, New Hampshire where my dad worked as an electrical engineer for a large firm. I haven’t been there since, but looking back I remember it as the quintessential New England town. There was a stone bridge that crossed a small rocky river leading directly into the heart of town where the bank, movie theatre, and several quaint shops enveloped the town square on all four sides.

As beautiful as it was, that was not the big attraction to an eight year old. No siree! All the adventure and mystery one could ever hope for could be found in the woods out back of our house.

The one winter we spent in Milford was an eye-opener for a young lad born and raised in the south. It was the first time I’d ever seen more than a dusting of snow. In early December, a big storm dropped nearly thirty-six inches of the white stuff, enough to bury me chest-deep, and it was pure magic!

Mom had me bundled up like a mummy before letting me go outside, but as soon as I got free from all that mothering, I headed straight for the woods. Back in the fall, my friend, Wayne, who was in the Scouts, taught me how to build a lean-to using only sticks and leaves. I was anxious to see whether our fort had survived the first snowfall.

Huddled together in our self-made shelter, we read story after story from Wayne’s Boy’s Life magazines. We wanted to become outdoorsmen like our scouting heroes. However, to be a true outdoorsman, you had to learn how to hunt. So, you can imagine my excitement when I discovered tracks in the snow. They were everywhere, meandering around trees, crisscrossing, and doubling back. Some even veered off the trail into the deep woods where I was forbidden to go – on pain of a good hiding! But, there I was, all primed for the hunt, and ready to track down the illusive prey that had left those enticing footprints behind. After a while, I realized the tracks I’d relentlessly followed were rabbit tracks, given the relative position of the front and back paws. Score one for the great hunter!

I followed those tracks seemingly to Land’s End without ever spotting my prey. I made my way through the woods, and enjoyed watching playful squirrels as they vaulted from tree to tree. The boughs were weighed down, but when the squirrels dislodged the snow, the cascading flurry looked like miniature avalanches as the branches shed their load and sprung back into place. More than once, I had to duck to avoid being victimized by those mischievous squirrels.

Boy, that rabbit sure covered a lot of territory! I know because I walked mile after mile following those darn tracks before stumbling across my own tracks and suddenly realizing I was back where I started. Tired, cold, and frustrated, I gave up the hunt and returned home.

Over dinner, I told my dad how I’d spent the whole day in the woods, but never did find that rabbit. He started laughing, and I felt self-conscious at first until he reassured me he wasn’t laughing at me, but at the situation in general.

He explained how rabbits, and other animals, always moved in ever-widening circles to lead predators farther away from their burrow to protect their family. So, there I was following Br’er Rabbit round and round the woods clueless that I was being led down the proverbial garden path.

All things considered, it was a good day since I had learned several valuable lessons, namely, that animals are a lot smarter than third-graders, and that it’s okay to laugh at yourself and not take things too seriously. The latter being the most important, of course, since I’ve found myself in many situations throughout my life where it was better to “lighten up” and not allow myself to become unsettled by petty grievances.

I also learned that lessons in life come in many forms and from sources you’d least expect.

Br’er Rabbit taught me that one.

Author Notes: I hope you enjoy the story, and would appreciate your thoughts and comments. Thanks in advance.

Recommend Write a Review Report