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Post by Kristofor on Aug 11, 2023 4:27:41 GMT -6
'Theres an idea' he considers. Picking another calico feeder treat out of the net, the fox breaks the shell, then waits for it to soften up with the heat and damp of his own maw, with two fingers clamped in his teeth to give them the taste too. Like suckling. Finally taking the softened treat out of his own mouth, 'ew this is gross' but its all he has until he either catches a fish or finds something like milk in the meantime. The not-a-fox baby animal sniffs the air. blindly snapping at where food smell comes from. 'Hold on a mo-ouch-ment' he doesn't get that moment as their nose is quite keen for being a newborn and again finds his paw hand to clamp on. This time, he curls his fingers in before this happens, so only two fingers holding the softened treat are bitten into. Releasing the treat, he lets the animal pause for the rush of new flavors, prompting it to swallow again. But it doesn't release his fingers, doing that sucky motion he's seen baby animals do. 'No little one, my fingers aren't what you want'.
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Post by Fiera Ferella on Aug 11, 2023 10:15:30 GMT -6
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 12, 2023 4:08:42 GMT -6
Splash.
He's not been out doing 'wild' fishing for years so the fox is out of habit, but he hears the telltale splash of fins on water. No, he's never owned a goldfish...or a pet with fins of any sort. Looking away from the baby trying to bite and suckle his fingers simultaneously, something apparently has taken interest in the pellets at the bottom of the net. Honestly lucky it hasn't drifted away. Something about the length of his hand is unfearfully fighting the current, nipping at the remainders of the breaking up pellets he'd tossed into the net's edge, drifting in the water a little bit. It wasn't much fish, but it is a start.
'Boo' a sharp turn of his head and slightly louder bark startles the cub-fawn-thing into releasing his fingers as he pulls back his hand himself. Those nippy nubs are sharp baby teeth. Little red piercings are visible on his dark furred fingers. Ouch.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 12, 2023 4:17:01 GMT -6
The lack of watching 'him' does draw concern to Kristofor as he turns away from the hungry baby animal, body language tense. Aware that his longer limbs as a grown 'evolved' fox make it more difficult to bound up like his wild brethren can do, but... Limbs tensed, he springs, awkwardly up and forward, crashing onto the shore, but his sharp tipped fingers are gripping a thin green fish. It flails and splashes in alarm, until hs head darts forward and silences its struggles with one strong bite. A strong fishy taste like a sardine floods his senses, spitting the fish into his waiting hands. Blech, this fish isn't a favorite to eat raw, that's for sure. But he does now have something to work with for feeding the baby animal so it stops trying to eat him instead. Its doing a motion of lapping the roof of its mouth, staring forward in a direction like its waiting fro something.
Starting to wonder though, is the baby blind?
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 12, 2023 4:26:38 GMT -6
Give it a few days, the baby was just hatched. Might just need a few square meals first before it starts doing normal 'baby growing' stuff. the reasonable logical side of his mind tells him. With the fish in hand, he needs to make a mush of sorts in order to give the animal something to at least have in its stomach.
But babies dont' eat solid foods again, his reasonable side barks back at him, while looking for a flat enough river stone to at least do some basic 'mushing' of the fish. But it would at least give it something besides two softened treats and a taste of his own blood.
A fox in deers clothing...no. A WOLF in deers clothing. He remembers now. The mad dashing sled race from earlier in the year; being introduced to the large and imposing Bristol... who looked suspiciously similar to the baby creature sitting on his towel, looking about without seeing anything?
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 12, 2023 4:32:41 GMT -6
Sadly he doesn't remember what the animal's species name was called, but a meat eating deer suddenly makes a LOT more sense out of the blue. It also doesn't answer the question on what to feed a freshly hatched ...uh...cub...fawn...flub?..thing. Any creature he's adopted has been ready to eat solid food from the get go. So doing this mama bird thing of mushing up the food is super out of his natural wheelhouse of skills. Ah, this rock should do the trick.
'Thank you for feeding me and the cub tonight.' he mutters to the fish, trying to avoid the eerie stare of death from the dead fish, and staring to crush it with several rock strikes. Oof, its a smelly fish, but with a few strikes, he can grip the tail and grip the head and pull them apart. A shredding, ripping noise as the skeleton parts ways with the rest of the fish in a messy flourish.
sniff sniff sniff. Food?
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 12, 2023 4:44:34 GMT -6
Its small and bony and doesn't have much meat on it, but he'll take what he can get at this point. Discarding the separated skeleton and nearly decapitated head, Kris uses his sharp claws to score the meat deep enough to start mushing it up somewhat. Striking the inner flesh of the fish with enough force to start tenderizing it. Sort of like what you do with eating pork or beef in a thicker form then a burger. In perspective, this wouldn't make a meal except for a literally starving animal, but that is what he has on hand. Several rock strikes later, the meat is quite a bit flatter, and he can scrape the body with the rock forward. Several scales come off, which he did forget to do descaling, but its a baby, it should be 'fine' right? The headless fish's body is like a tube of disgusting fish paste at that point, with bits and pieces of remainder of bone, that he picks out, and scrapes onto a rock. 25. Using:  |
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 12, 2023 4:47:57 GMT -6
Fish paste for baby fox-fawn. Well, it would do in a pinch until he can either catch something else or go pick the brain of the master of the estate for whatever this animal is and what to feed it.
'No need to waste the remainder' as he finishes scraping free as much fish paste as possible, leaving a squeezed out body and a head with meat chunks clinging to its bones. Tossing the remainder of the fish skeleton into his net, the fox sets in back in the water, burning the handle just a little bit so something doesn't steal it right from under his nose. With a rock slathered in fish paste, he gets up and approaches the baby fox-fawn thing for the third time. It tenses in body language, sniffing the air until it 'looks' right at him, but doesn't see him, at least to his own knowledge.
'I have some food for you now' he says gently.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 12, 2023 4:52:21 GMT -6
'Once we're done here, I'll go find some milk for you.' he says, scraping a small wad of fish paste onto his contaminated with fish fingers. Holding a digit up to the animal's muzzle for it to smell him, smell the foo-ouch. Quicker then he expects, the baby chomps down on his finger, suckling on it expectantly. Pausing with the rush of new flavor of freshly prepared raw fish, as he takes the opportunity of not trying to chew his finger off to scrape the pad on its minaturized front nips and remove his finger from its mouth, drawing another finger down its throat to communicate swallowing. Training the animal not to eat his fingers is going to be a task, that's for sure.
Maaaaarrrllleh the little fox-fawn bleats with its mouth full, finally swallowing whatever it had in its mouth and seeking more. Sniffing with that oversized nose of its, until it dips its head lower and finds the rock in his hand. Clamping sharp maw on the rock and finding it wasn't as 'nommy' as fingers.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 12, 2023 4:57:08 GMT -6
He recalls his cousins being quite fond of fried fish fingers; prepared fish that was cooked in oil until crunchy and a finger food. Did he try those? Maybe. Migth not have been to his taste or it didn't agree with his stomach. Soemthing about oil or breading or something. Ideas flow in his head about how to prepare 'baby animal food' with fish, something easy for it to digest and get the nutrition a mommy fox or mommy deer could give. The baby is trying to eat the rock, and not succeeding. Making unhappy noises as it bites on the rock with no success on drawing blood. Probably no idea what its eating, licking a dry tongue over its surface, but finding the smear of raw fish paste. A bleat of FOOD, assumingly, as it starts licking the rock with more interest then a few seconds ago. Occasionally tasting his fingers too as it goes too far on the licking of rock, but doesn't seem to notice his fingers 'holding' the rock.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 12, 2023 5:01:24 GMT -6
Theres not a surprise if this creature may be related (or not) to the grown wolf in deers clothing with those big antlers, Kristofor thinks as he lets the baby animal eat the paste off the rock he'd prepared for it. This 'hopefully' will tide the little animal over until he finds a specific thing to actually feed it. Kibble wasn't a choice, and he makes Dawson's food personally. If Dawson can eat it, but he's more partial to bits of crunchy vegetables in his food as well. Would the baby fox-fawn like some too? Another question; how would the dogs react to having a prey animal eating their food, or living in the apartment. He didn't need to worry about the turtle, it just lived in the garden if he can find it again.
Eh...that's a future Kristofor problem; immediate priority is making sure he gets this creature something proper to eat besides 'homemade fish paste'.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 12, 2023 5:05:59 GMT -6
Once the paste is entirely licked off, and it seems to take more to the licking part then the getting a wad of something on its tongue to loll around and taste vs actually eat. Or just baby reasoning of taste new thing? bite it! He deosn't know, and isn't going to try and do a psych idea of how this baby animal which to looks is a baby fox-deer thing and doesn't know how to treat it. Is it flighty like a deer, or going to be stubborn and opportunistic like a fox. Or a wolf, but because of his uncle's phobia (an unfounded confusion as to why that he never did tell him) it was only after he went to school that he met one even. A tall gray wolf who is the complete opposite of how one treats other animals; "friendly". They had transferred a few weeks after.
The baby fox-fawn butts his hands, seeking more with an insistent bleat. Not enough. Give more. hungry. feed now.
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Post by Fiera Ferella on Aug 13, 2023 12:54:37 GMT -6
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 13, 2023 14:45:18 GMT -6
He's going to need to make more fish paste before the day is done, or cut the outing to the river short and go see if he had any access to milk for baby animals available at the free food stall attached to the building called the 'kennels'. Honestly, he likes having his own space that isn't a small metal box where finding a warmer place to sleep in the cold winter involved a lot of extra blankets or sleeping in a pile with his hound companions.
Unlikely someone would steal his banged up pull cart but... he doesn't want to abandon the freshly hatched baby fox-faun. Now that it was standing up as well. Ok, he'd do that. Abandoning the space where the rocks are splattered with tenderized fish entrail, Kristofor takes his towel, full of eggshell pieces, and layers the having to be roughly unstuck cart bed with the towel. The faun would go with him to get the milk and come back and chill with the bottle while he tried to get more fish. The catch is, collecting the faun without it kicking him. Being just hatched though, he doesn't think it'll kick hard.
Turns out, because the animal doesn't seem to see him, distracted by the rock its trying to suckle on, he can scoop the creature up by the hind legs first, cradling it to carry to its nest in the cart.
Mrrreeerrrlh!
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 13, 2023 17:32:15 GMT -6
Even being unable to see, the faun's nose told it that the fox was right there, reaching out to take sharp hold. Namely, his fur, again.
'ouch' he tries not to yelp and drop the baby animal, depositing it gently into the cart. He has to lean down to avoid losing more fur and a chunk of skin to the baby's bite. 'Come on now, let go.' Ow..fur pulling..oi. OI. The baby doesn't seem to get what he's trying to say, obviously. He sighs briefly, free hand pinching the bridge of his muzzle before growling deep in his throat. A noise most animals associate with danger.
NOISE! Unexpectedly, the faun bleats in alarm, opening its maw and releasing his fur. Finally he can undo his makeshift cradle and check his chest for any further fur removal damages. This time it didn't yank off much, just some blonde hairs clinging to the baby's muzzle.
'No danger here, we're getting food and coming back.' he tells the baby fox-faun thing.
No lies, it is a BUMPY ride for the baby faun, even with the towel being an extra layer between it and the cart bed, but the beating it had received didn't do much.
What felt like forever, and with several stops to massage his pawpads to avoid them splitting on him again, the two are back at the riverside, a giant bottle of milk jammed at the front of the cart, the faun hungrily bobbing their head with much suckling. So hungry.
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