Kyle looks sheepish. “No.”
“Do you know the guy who owns it?’
“No.”
“So you don’t have permission to be here?”
“No.”
“We’re just having fun,” Colt pipes up. “We’re not hurting anything.”
“Yeah, Brett doesn’t plant anything in this field,” Kyle says. “It’s just grass and stuff.”
Ah, perfect opening.
“Well, that’s not true,” I say. But instead of launching into my monologue, I point. “See that ridge?”
They all look over at the slight rise about fifty yards away.
“Yeah,” Kyle says. The other two nod.
“There’s a fox den there. There are five pups in there. They’re about four months old.”
“Okay.” Kyle is looking at me like I’m speaking French.
“You could be scaring them off. If you get closer, or if you drive over it, you could cause their den to cave in.”
“We’re pretty far from their den,” Haden protests. “And we didn’t come in from that direction.”
“But for sure, you’re messing up the nests of mice and rabbits those guys eat,” I say. “And you’re tearing up the grass they hide in. Grass that will keep the rain from washing down from here to their den and possibly flooding them next time.” I point toward the slight valley that runs from where we are to where the den is situated.
Haden glances at Colt and then back to me. “We didn’t know all of that.”
I nod. “Well, now you do. Fields are never empty, and “just grass and stuff” is still important. Mudding isn’t okay. Four-wheelers are great for getting to spots trucks and cars can’t. But not for this.”
“Fine,” Kyle says. “We’ll leave.”
I nod. “Yeah. And you’ll be doing some community service.”
Kyle scowls. “What? No way.”
“Oh yeah. You’re trespassing and causing a disturbance.”
“Come on, man,” Colt whines. “No way.”
“Yes,” I say firmly. “I want this to sink in. You’re not doing this again.”
“Fine! We promise!” Kyle says.
I hear the sound of a car behind us. I turn to look.
And sigh.
It’s the sheriff.
Great.
“You called the cops on us?” Kyle exclaims.
