The Log that got away

A small log of wood came drifting down the river one sunny afternoon last summer. Now I never let a log pass by without taking a look to see if it is worth getting the boat out and fetching it in for firewood, so I watched this one come closer and observed that it was a handy size to go straight on the fire without sawing, and was floating low in the water so might well be a good solid piece of ash or oak. There were a couple of small snags sticking up at the front end that would make it easy to grab hold of, so I prepared to put the boat in the water as it came alongside.

At this point I observed something very unusual.  The two snags twitched and the log started to rock, sending out ripples across the water.  Then it turned and started moving steadily towards the far bank.  I watched, fascinated, as my intended firewood climbed out of the water, shook itself, turned to glare indignantly at me, and trotted away towards the woods with its red-brown bushy tail held low behind it. I just wonder whether, had my chickens been on the bank that afternoon instead of me, Mr. Fox might have come ashore on my side and collected his supper.