We passed a turtle lying in the sun, and, later, several small frogs croaked as we passed by. Both creatures fled from our presence, plopping back into the water as if we were predators come to eat them.
Later as we rode on, we saw a beautiful red fox. It had a snow-white breast, perky ears, a black button nose, and an amazingly gorgeous tail. I yearned to reach out and touch the fox. I wondered if people ever kept such animals as pets. This one was wild, of course, and didn’t stick around to discuss the question with me.
When we stopped for lunch and a siesta, I removed Frey’s tack. He quickly let me know that he was ready for another roll in the grass. His circles and the way his legs looked like he was about to collapse were sure signs of his intent. I suppose such maneuvers were the result of my failure to relieve his itchiness since I had no curry comb. I’d also heard that dust kept animals free from fly bites. I hoped so, at least that would provide a good reason for his dirt collection. But already he felt like sandpaper when I petted him.
I ate my fill of watercress and miner’s lettuce and then sat down to gnaw at my cattail shoots. Once again, after I’d bathed in the stream, being careful not to get close and personal with any snakes, I sat in the sun to dry off and grew sleepy.