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Post by Kristofor on Aug 13, 2023 18:27:27 GMT -6
With some sympathy for the fox and the newborn faun, the free food cart gave him a 'baakir sized' milk bottle; milked fresh from a mama baakir they had who had recently foaled and had much more milk to give then the foal could drink. The 'mother milk' as they called it is important for mammals to drink as their first few meals to stave off getting sick. Very rarely do they see a carnivorous deer though. Still, is mammal, (although he did say it came from an egg), drinks milk. If he's concerned over the lack of meat, the fish paste he'd created could work to mix in with the milk for extra nutrition to begin with.
TO do that, he'll need to catch more fish. The cart's wheels sink into the gravel shoreline as it comes off the beaten path. Difficult terrain to pull it out later, maybe. But his hands can do with a break. The foxfaun is feeding themselves.
The handle lands with a thump in the gravel as the fox approaches the same fishing spot he'd been in earlier. It hadn't been an hour, but he'd forgotten about the carcass left in the handnet.
Three or four little fish are hungrily nibbling on the drifting bits of meat.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 13, 2023 22:55:47 GMT -6
Hm... did he bring a bucket... no. But he does have those baskets. The little colored baskets he intends to teach Dawson to scenthound with. And he also had some worm bait. Perhaps live any sort of food would help the fawn's growth. Once the creature is settled at the apart...meant. Oh no. That meant he might have exceeded the hard limit of animals he's allowed at there. Hm. He'll have a chat with his landlord about that soon. Carefully retrieving the basket, he takes off his sneakers to walk on his paws; its quieter that way; and fish spook easily. Since he keeps his nails relatively short to avoid them being stubbed inside his sneakers when he does wear them, there's little noise as he walks over to the river, poised to pounce...and dives at the net. Two little fish get caught, but the third swims away. Without touching the net, he lifts the dribbling basket out of the water. The fish are barely the size of the thin green fish he'd caught already, but beggars can't be choosers.
One swift bite to each, and they stop flopping in panic.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 14, 2023 2:30:08 GMT -6
When he doesn't hear the suckling sounds, the fox turns around to check on his new creature. Its doing that motion of slowly licking the roof of its mouth, maybe still had some fur caking from biting him. The big wide eyes, seeing what he believed to be nothing are at half mast, its belly engorged with the drinking of milk, starting to nod off. Ah, it had finished as much as it could. with his basket of small caught fish set aside away from something hopping out of the water to eat it themselves, the fox extricates the bottle from the faun and catches its heavy to hold head, gently easing it to into resting in a half circle. A gentle brushing of the neck fur as he does so, The baby doesn't need much guidance as it doezes off into slumber of full stomach. Hatching and learning to stand must be hard work; not that he remembers doing that himself though.
Okay, with the faun now falling asleep, he retrieves the suckled on river rock and goes back to preparing some fish paste.
'I'm getting a bucket to put my fish in next time'. he decides.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 14, 2023 2:39:51 GMT -6
Not only that, he should learn the wild preparation of meals out in the wilderness; camping is one thing, but literally roughing it is another. If he can make decent enough food that both his hounds are begging for more when he's done, he might be doing something right in terms of taste for carnivores. Still with the idea of no game bird meats. No putting Cabernet on the menu. The bird, not the wine. The raw taste of sardine floods his senses, and its a terrible taste. Much preferred to be cooked. Raw will make a better paste though for his sleeping faun. He can hear it breathing. Between scoring around the gills with his claws and several strikes with a slightly pointer river rock, the separation of head from body and tail went a lot less ...er, rippier. Still tears through and pulls a slightly broken down skeleton from the skinny innards of the fish. With the head removed, he starts trying to descale it a bit, scraping the still body with the edge of his rock.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 14, 2023 2:44:28 GMT -6
He'll look up in the library about the carnivorous fox-deer faun thing back when he's in the city; because he's got a lingering thought while attempting and failing to descale the fish which isn't even the size of his paw. Instead, he starts trying to tenderize the little fish tube with sharp precise strikes that don't puncture the skin but are intending to flatten and bruise the edible meat within. Someone has passed him a scroll of sorts when taking the turtle thing to the play recently, mentioning to open it within their range...what even was it? It should still be in his satchel, having rarely needed to unpack it for anything. An all in one pack, he called it to himself.
A few minutes of tenderizing later, and the second little woven basket is picked up, with the fish paste 'tube' not squeezed out initially, but left in there instead. WHen the faun wakes up, he'll squeeze the fish tube and prepare it then. No need to attract unwanted attention with the butchery.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 14, 2023 2:50:05 GMT -6
Part of the reason he's putting the carcasses of the fish into the river; it lets the smell be drained off, even though the air around the rocks where he's been working is saturated in the smell of dead fish. He's surprised the smell doesn't wake the fox-faun. Well, there's a way to avoid that, of attracting unwanted wild attentions. Setting the basket aside, the fox washes his hands in the river, just out of reach of the net, where he deposits the fish carcass. There's some movement at the end of the net, the third little fish must be back fro more. WHo wouldn'tve guessed that these creatures were perfectly happy eating their own dead brethren. Eat or be eaten, law of the forest.
While he's rinsing his paws in the river, Kristofor's rolling his neck from side to side, slightly tilted back. Its an old and frankly barbaric thing that a fox can do to mark their first territory, and that's called scenting. And one of those scenting glands is on his neck.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 14, 2023 2:55:21 GMT -6
Their anscestors would pee on the rocks and such to mark territory, but that's unhygienic and smelly. The kind of smell that makes him want to retch instead. Rolling his neck backward, side to side to try and wake that particular gland up, which is for few purposes besides scenting territory or claiming a mate. Its going to give him a neckache something fierce. WIth dripping paws, the fox walks over to a tree nearby and does the thing Yolko does to mark her territory. An angled full body rubbing of the face of an overbearing tree. Its big and old and kind of warped from growing on the edge of the water, where not much dirt remains the closer to the water one gets.
He turns around and rubs again, angling his neck so it does rub too. Making this place his.
Or at least as 'his' as to keep wild animals away. Humans have terrible senses of smell and don't recognize markings unless they are specifically seeking them. But its a smell thing. The faun snuffleze in sleep.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 14, 2023 3:01:06 GMT -6
Its not that Kris doens't like his own smell, which he smells like a cedar forest and fresh chopped basil. Its just not 'done' like that anymore. However with little choice, this will deter any predators coming to find him, his faun or his fish carcasses. Done now, he goes back to the river to prepare the second fish. It has the same fate, being rockilly partially decapitated, separated from the body with a pulling motion that tugs out the most parts of a skeleton, discarding that part and tendering the flesh with a rock until its flat enough he can squeeze it like a tube of toothpaste. The smell is overwhelmingly fishy once dropping the second fish-tube into the basket. Going to put the third carcass into the net, he finds luck; a few small fish have swum stupidly into the net itself to feed on the bones, and a shell as well. Plenty to prepare. Once catching those fish, he tosses the river rocks with the most 'fishiness' into the river again, but keeps the pointer rock. Might be able to do something with it. The faun kicks the edge of the cart in sleep, still too young to dream, theoretically. 40 using  |
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Post by Fiera Ferella on Aug 15, 2023 9:04:16 GMT -6
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 16, 2023 20:49:27 GMT -6
It eats at his mood while cleaning up the mess from fish butchery; of where to actually keep the creature; Hooves and windy metal stairs aren't a great combination. Hmm. The fish flop about as he puts the basket back in the shallow water. The water sloshes over their shiny little bodies, prompting the fish to stop flopping and start splashing instead. The river water laps at his paws and his feet while pressing the basket a bit deeper into the gravel so it doesn't wash away. Its...like the size of a dog bowl.
Cold fish keep longer, and he...might be able to actually have a bucket to keep live fish or something. But the headless fishes will be eaten if he keeps them in the same basket. But the package of baby baskets are multiple vibrant colors of...its either plastic cordage or dyed plant fibers. Leaving his live fish alone, the fox goes back to find the rest of his baskets. Glancing over at the sleeping fawn who is sound, sound asleep.
and a horrible pun comes to mind; It suffolk to say this was a strange turn of events. Hm. Suffolk. Why not.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 16, 2023 21:37:12 GMT -6
Above him, theres a shifting in the leaves, as a small waterbird takes flight in a flurry of wings. It dives for his fish, out of reach of the grounded fox... and suddenly something lunges from the water with a great SPLOOSH. A flash of teeth, a squawk of surprise, and the creature disappears into the water with barely a splash. Like the opposite of a surfacing whale. The faint scent of raw game bird on the air from the initial catch.
Ugh... a grim feeling comes to his stomach, a bubbling sort of discomfort. It goes down...down... and a twist of his body to go back... and a soft exhale that wasn't his mouth making noise. Ow... ew...
The splash and bird cry actually wakes the baby fawn from their slumber, stirring awake with a stretch of tangled legs, blinking those opaque orbs that seem to see nothing. Where? where? The feel around its body is hard and soft at the same time. Making a bleat of confuse, seeking attention.
'Oh no, I'm sorry Suffolk. You were sleeping well, weren't you.' the ears perk up slightly with the soft sounds it had heard recently.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 16, 2023 21:58:10 GMT -6
Ignoring the lingering smell of injured bird on the air, Kristofor retreats from the shore to come next to the cart. He doesn't touch the animal except for a faint touch on the head.
The blind? baby almost honks with the sudden touch, but its... not gripping. Not sharp. But soft. Barely there but the ears are not lifting to hear for danger, because its already there, and hasn't developed the muscle memory for pointed up ears yet. 'Hello Suffolk. We're still at the river, nothing has changed.' another touch, very gentle. He can feel the slightest nub under the short baby fur. There's two of them, only a few inches across the little crown of its head. 'Are you hungry Suffolk?' The sound of shuffling...and something touches the place where the nose and the mouth meet. Instinctively the mouth opens up and clamps down on whatever is holding some food to its face. A yip of pain, and it tastes blood. 'Ouch suffolk, ouch.'
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 16, 2023 22:17:00 GMT -6
Mmmrrrmm the fingers finally release the treat offered, and the creature is distracted by the cracked softened capsule treat. It cries as those sharp baby teeth rake over flesh to take the snack and Kristofor finally gets his fingers back. Now bloodied by those small teeth. Ouch. His own instinct is licking the drips of what should remain inside his body off his fingers. Theres little damage as the teeth are small and barely nubs but still sharp. Ow.
'Suffolk, when you can see, the first time I'm teaching you is that my fingers aren't food.' he tells the animal with a frustrated sigh. These bites would start fights or injure his creatures that live in the apartment already. This... this won't work. It won't work. A frustrated huff. What should he do.
At the shore, he can see the net tugging. Something's trying to get at the fish carcass from the outside, and struggling to do so.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 16, 2023 22:42:51 GMT -6
The net would already be gone if was bigger then a sardine pulling on the net. Curious, his fingers stuck in his mouth to let his fox saliva coat the baby bites on his fingers, he approaches the net. The net swishes and pulls. In the water, something about the size of a hamster with a dorsal fin is frustratingly trying to drag a large hunk of fish entrail through the hole. Brown. What kind of fish even is that. On the other side, by the live fish basket, something is splashing. Two somethings. Had some other fish just gotten waved by the splash into the basket? Probably. He waits... watching the brown fish still struggle to get at the fish guts, then pounce. In his grip is a struggling snapping... fish. Snapping its maw rapidly at him, though it does nothing in the fox's grip. Bites it, and it goes still. Another to feed his fish-eating fawn.
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Post by Nadia on Aug 17, 2023 1:32:48 GMT -6
  These sharks like you.. |
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