VIEW-AHOO
for #METOO
A Fox’s Guide to Westerns
HUNTING CALLS
You may hear the following calls during pursuit.
VIEW-AHOO or TAA-LEOCALLED
By anyone certain to have seen the hunted fox.
With no safe place, we are all already out. Whether open or hidden, in house or in field. I start watching foxes and Westerns.
Warlock: Last night was the fourth time in a month this town has come to a standstill. Driven to cover by them murdering cowboys. We put our faith in Thomson—he ran!
–While everyone else hid.
–An excellent point Miss Jessie. But it’s time to stop hiding.
TAA-LEO BACK
When fox breaks covert but moves back to it.
I take cues from the fox, quick as a glorious russet. I watch how it moves away from its covert. How the pull of the grass brings the fox to its feet, to the swoon of the wheat, dairy-sweet. But something cuts through. Full head-turn to threat. They face the same direction for five, fifty, not even one second, before fox darts into land’s edge.
Instinct may be to dig yourself in, lie deep in the ground, cover over your brightness. But know that won’t stop them coming.
The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance: He’s been hiding behind your gun long enough. You got a choice, Dishwasher. Either you leave town, or tonight be on that street alone. You be there, and don’t make us come and get you.
TAA-LEO OVER
When fox crosses a ride or runs from one covert to another.
Once Upon a Time in the West: Soundtrack of a mouth organ as camera pulls back to show your smallness; in the thrust of hills where volcanoes spilled and granite ripped the veins of the earth, you stand. And it is no use saying it has nothing to do with you; this sliding stone and buried rock, these swallowed eons of violence; this is your home, here, on the very edge of it.
You keep in each other’s eye-line. Dust rises. Rotating lens, slow tempo crescendo. Flashback to a mouth organ. Henry Fonda, cast against type as the villain, as villains often are, had placed it in your mouth as your brother stood on your shoulders, strung in a noose that was tied to a bell so when you fell into crumpled rock, it tolled the shock of it, long and deep into valley’s reach. Now you flash back, placing the mouth organ in his lips where he lies, felled at your feet. But you both knew that moment was coming. Opponents have to know they are opponents or there’s no finale.
When does the fox realise it’s in a battle? A scent over grass. A bark. A flare. Not liking the look of him at the bar. Seeing the car door swing shut and her trapped inside. Or, instant. Suddenly, he has always been there. Sand rises. I am in my safe place: at sea. When I swim, salt licks a flock of swifts along the veins, whole body flutters in flame. The sea is my life-line but now it is only eye-line. Now sweat-line. Even here. Only me and the sea against him. Rock grinds and spits. Wrists. Mouth. Organs.
GONE-AWAY
When fox has gone away from covert.
Only this time my body is quicker than his because I have been in training, not hiding. I have been running with foxes and watching Westerns.
Warlock: Richard Widmark’s hand pinned to a table with a steak knife.
The Man From Laramie: Jimmy Stewart’s hand shot through.
One-Eyed Jacks: Marlon Brando’s gun hand smashed.
So the hand of mine he doesn’t have comes down on his and twists, he cries, and loosens the other which flicks into his eyes, and I call FIRE – VIEW-AHOO – FIRE!
And the old fisherman who runs the coffee stall down-coast comes running, Where’s the fire? Here, I say, standing over it, limp now, as a net with no catch.
And because all the life has gone out of him I almost feel sorry. Sorry for him. I almost feel sorry for him. But I have also been trained not to take my eye off.
The Big Country: Now I’ll count to ten, now you turn on Ready. Fire when I tell you. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. Ready. Aim.
–(Gunshot)
–FIRE. I warned you, you dirty low…
–Alright, now it’s my shot.
You fire into sand. His gun drops into water; his chest, a glorious russet.
–I told you. I told you I’d do it.
It is several hours before I return to the water. At the tilt of earth and sea, sun swirls over silt and the slick of it maps the skin, following its course across the body. Sun falls but hasn’t gone away. The weight of brightness burrows through the waves.