This is the shortest day of the year. In fact, according to those who know, it arrived at 4:44 a.m. CST. I was awake to welcome this momentous moment.
True to custom, as I have every year for a while, I’m going to present the story of Buz the Fox. It’s a Christmas story and a children’s story, entirely fabricated out of my imagination.
Buz the Fox
By Blanche Day Manos
You see, it might have happened this way: Once upon a time, about two thousand years ago, foxes dwelt in the hill country and plains around Bethlehem. I hate to tell you this, but they followed, at a safe distance, the sheep that shepherds led here and there in search of tasty grass for the flock. Foxes felt that mutton was a first rate meal, tastier even than field mice.
Buz was one of those foxes who followed the sheep. Buz was not a good name; it meant somebody who was looked down on by others; but, sad to say, it fit little Buz. In fact, his family called him Buz the Scruffy One. He was smaller than most and his tail, instead of being a proud, fluffy plume, was a sad little wisp of fur.
Most foxes wore a regal coat of lovely red, white and black. Skimpy and dull described Buz’s coat. Because of his small size and pitiful fur, the other foxes (who were bullies) picked on him. You might think this would make Buz try to keep on their good side. It did not.
Buz became slyer and sneakier than any of them. To get even with their bullying, he played tricks on them, like tying their tails together while they slept and then yelling, “Earthquake!” Buz laughed about that prank for a week. I’m sure you will understand that Buz became a loner. He avoided his brothers and they, in turn, ignored him except when they were making fun of him.
One crisp, clear starlit night, Buz felt particularly hungry. He sniffed here, scurried there, and tried to find a sleepy shepherd who would not see him slip in among a herd of drowsy sheep. Buz’s mouth watered for a tender, fat lamb who might have wandered away from its mother. His stomach growled and he was about to give up on sheep in favor of finding a field mouse when something happened that drove all thought of food from his mind.
An amazing light filled the whole sky. What could it be? Not the sunrise; that was some hours away. This light dazzled Buz and hurt his eyes. A loud sound broke the stillness and the hair along Buz’s back stood straight up. Scuttling behind a rock, he crouched, watching and listening.
Many voices filled the air. The voices seemed to be singing and shouting at the same time. They sounded happy yet other-worldly. Buz had never heard or seen anything like it.
The shepherds jerked upright and stared at the sky, shielding their eyes. A few fell flat on their faces. Just as Buz thought he would faint from the excitement, the voices stopped and the light faded.
Talking wildly to each other, the shepherds pointed to the sky. Then they looked across the hills toward a small town where moonlight danced off the flat roofs of houses. All but one shepherd who stayed to guard the sheep, hurried off to Bethlehem.
Buz’s mouth watered. What an opportunity! Only one person to guard the whole flock of sheep? Why, he had his choice of any fat little lamb. But, Buz didn’t budge. Something stirred inside him. You see, in addition to all the other things that made up the scruffy little fox, was a heaping helping of Curiosity. He had to find out what had happened. What was the blinding light and many voices? Why had the shepherds run off toward Bethlehem?
Slipping from bush to rock, Buz followed the shepherds. Every once in a while, the shepherds paused and pointed toward the sky and one single bright star which seemed to be leading the way. Finally, they stopped in front of a stable in Bethlehem. Buz could hear a sheep or two inside. His mouth watered.
One of the shepherds called to someone within the stable. Then they tiptoed inside.
Did Buz dare get closer to these humans? Shepherds did not look kindly on his type. Curiosity got the better of his good judgment and Buz slunk to the stable door. Dropping down on his stomach, he crept inside, staying in the shadows.
How strange! The shepherds fell on their knees in front of a feeding trough. A young woman sat near the trough, gazing at something in the hay.
The hay wriggled! Buz jumped back. A tiny human fist waved above the manger. Was a human baby inside the trough? This stable was a place for cattle and sheep. Even Buz knew this was not a place for a baby.
A small ray of that same dazzling light Buz saw in the field radiated from one end of the trough. Buz blinked. What was the meaning of this?
Forgetting to be cautious, Buz crept closer. Strangely, nobody noticed him. He peeked over the side of the manger just as the small human inside turned His head and looked at him.
A tingle began deep inside Buz, warming him from his head to his tail. The baby smiled at him, he, Buz the hated one, was filled with such awe and amazement that his mouth dropped open and his eyes watered.
Though warm, golden light surrounded the baby’s head and shoulders, the other end of the manger was dark. As Buz gazed, he noticed something else. One of the cloths that wrapped the baby had slipped and a small, pink foot kicked free of its bindings.
Expecting at any moment to be caught by the scruff of his neck or to be hit with a shepherd’s staff, Buz inched closer to the child until his nose touched that bare foot. It felt cold! Buz tried to move the covers back in place but they kept sliding down. He did not like to think that this child might be uncomfortable. Buz knew how merciless the night air around Bethlehem could be.
Forgetful of the danger, Buz put his front paws on the side of the trough. With one silent leap, he landed over the baby’s foot. Gently, he lowered himself until he felt the little foot still under the warmth of his belly.
“Look. He is asleep,” someone said.
“He’s warm and comfortable,” someone else whispered.
Nobody noticed Buz, hidden in the shadows. Buz lay there all night. At last, when dawn began to fill the stable with light, Buz jumped to the ground and slipped out of the stable. He wanted to tell someone about what had happened. This amazing event was too wonderful to keep to himself. For the first time in his life, Buz wanted to talk to his brothers.
The sun peeped above the eastern hills as Buz came to the door of the cave he called home.
“Wake up!” he shouted. “I’ve got good news!”
“Go away,” a fox growled. “I thought you were gone for good.”
“No, no! You must hear what I saw tonight,” Buz yipped, licking each brother’s face until they woke up and stared at him.
“Did you catch something and bring it to us to eat?” another fox sneered. “If you did, it must have hot peppers in it like last time. Go find somebody else to fool.”
Buz hung his head. Shame was a new feeling for him. All of a sudden, he was not proud of his misdeeds.
“I-I’m sorry for all the mean tricks,” he said.
His brothers opened their eyes wide and stared at him. “You’re sorry? Are you the same little brother who only lived to make our lives miserable?” someone asked.
Buz defended himself. “Actually, you were the ones who picked on me, but I should not have acted as bad as you did. I’ve got to tell you what I saw tonight. It was amazing, stupendous, and colossal! It was…it was beautiful!”
“Buz, is this actually you?” cried the oldest fox. “You sound like Buz but you’re a handsome fellow. Not like yourself at all. Your tail…” he swallowed. “Your tail is, wow, unbelievable, knock-me-down perfect! I’ve never seen one so bushy and bright and look at the fur on your chest. It is so white it glistens!”
The brothers gathered around Buz, reaching out to touch him, oohing and ahing about his splendor.
Buz’s eyes opened wide. He tried to turn around and look at his tail. “Do I really look different?” he asked.
“About as different as night and day,” said a brother.
The foxes all sat in a ring around Buz while he told them the story about the night sky, the shepherds, and the baby in the manger.
But, do you know the really incredible thing about Buz? He looked handsome and regal on the outside, true; but, it was Buz’s heart that had really changed. He did not want to play mean tricks any longer. He felt happy and worthwhile, not small and unworthy. His heart sang when he remembered that he had warmed the foot of that wonderful child in the manger. He, Buz the hated one, had been allowed to serve the baby in this small way and because of that night, he would never be the same again.
https://www.amazon.com/Blanche-Day-Manos/e/B0090018EI/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0
Thank you for the beautiful story.
You are very welcome, Doward. Thank you for writing.