Brer Rabbit and the Clay Figure

Brer Rabbit and the Clay Figure

Brer Fox had a problem, and he blamed Brer Rabbit for every bit of it. When melons disappeared from the patch, Brer Fox said, "That rabbit did it." When the bean vines shook in the night, he said, "That rabbit again." If a peach fell from a tree before it was ripe, Brer Fox squinted at the woods and muttered, "I know whose quick paws are behind this." Sometimes Brer Fox was right. Sometimes he was only annoyed. But after enough missing food, being annoyed felt the same as being certain. One hot afternoon, Brer Fox sat by the fence and made a plan. He took red clay from the creek bank and mixed it with sticky sap. He shaped two legs, a round body, two arms, and a face with flat eyes and a hard little smile. He dressed the thing in an old hat and set it beside the path where Brer Rabbit liked to pass. From a distance it looked almost like a traveler waiting to be greeted. Up close it looked strange enough to make anyone stop. Then Brer Fox hid in the bushes and waited. He knew many things about Brer Rabbit, but the most useful one was this: Brer Rabbit liked respect almost as much as he liked stolen vegetables.

A Silent Stranger by the Path

Toward evening Brer Rabbit came along the path, swinging a green bean pod and feeling pleased with the world. The light was golden. The field was quiet. Then he saw the figure standing by the fence in that old hat, stiff as a fence post and silent as a stone. Brer Rabbit slowed down. He had never seen this fellow before. Still, good manners were good manners, and Brer Rabbit liked to show them when it cost him nothing. He tipped one ear and said, "Good evening there. Fine weather for walking, isn't it?" The figure said nothing. Brer Rabbit stopped fully now. He looked left and right. No answer. Not even a nod. So he tried again, louder this time. "I said, good evening. A polite person answers when spoken to." Nothing. Now Brer Rabbit was not the kind to pass by an insult and forget it. He stepped closer and studied the stranger's face. It was smooth, shiny in places, and oddly blank. "You must be the proudest fellow in these parts," he said. "Standing there in another animal's hat and too grand to open your mouth." The figure kept its silence, and that silence began to work on Brer Rabbit like a burr under a saddle.

Anger Grows Faster Than Sense

Brer Rabbit's voice sharpened. "If you are deaf, say so. If you are shy, bow your head. But don't stand there acting better than me." He crossed his arms and waited. The figure did not move. The field seemed to grow still around them. That was enough. Pride pushed judgment out of Brer Rabbit's mind. "Answer me, or I'll box your ears," he snapped. The figure offered the same silent stare. So Brer Rabbit swung one paw and smacked the stranger on the side of the head. In the same instant he knew he had made a mistake. His paw did not bounce away. It stuck fast in the clay. Brer Rabbit jerked once, then twice. "Let go of me!" he cried, as if the figure were the one causing trouble. The stranger gave no answer. Furious now, Brer Rabbit hit with his other paw. That one stuck too. He kicked with one foot. Stuck. Kicked with the other. Stuck again. Soon he was pressed against the clay figure from whiskers to tail, hugging the very thing he wanted to punish. If anyone had seen him then, they would have laughed for a week. Brer Rabbit wriggled, twisted, pleaded, and threatened, but anger had carried him into a trap that politeness could have walked past.

Brer Fox Returns Smiling

Out from the bushes stepped Brer Fox, looking as pleased as a cook near supper time. He circled slowly, admiring his work. "Well, well," he said. "If it isn't Brer Rabbit visiting my new clay figure. You two seem close already." Brer Rabbit stopped pulling and tried to recover his dignity, though it was difficult while stuck nose-first to a silent lump. "Evening, Brer Fox," he said. "I was just testing this fine piece of sculpture. Very sturdy. Very sticky too." Brer Fox laughed so hard he had to hold his sides. Then he sat down on a stump and began to enjoy himself properly. "I have wondered what to do with you," he said. "Maybe I'll hang you. Maybe I'll roast you. Maybe I'll drop you in the river with a stone tied to your foot. Each idea has its charms." At every new punishment Brer Rabbit looked worried, but not too worried. He knew Brer Fox liked to hear fear in another creature's voice, so Brer Rabbit let the fox talk. He listened carefully, waiting for the right opening. At last Brer Fox puffed out his chest and said, "Whatever I choose, you won't enjoy it." That was when Brer Rabbit suddenly began to tremble for real, or seemed to. His eyes widened. His voice grew thin. "Do what you please, Brer Fox," he cried, "but please, please don't throw me into that briar patch! Anything but that!"

The One Thing He Must Not Ask For

Now Brer Fox was clever, but he had one weakness: he loved feeling more clever than Brer Rabbit. The moment he heard that desperate plea, his ears lifted. He imagined thorn bushes grabbing rabbit fur, sharp branches scratching skin, and a frightened trickster begging for rescue. The picture pleased him so much that he stopped thinking. "Not the briar patch?" Brer Fox said, grinning wide. "Then the briar patch it shall be." He peeled Brer Rabbit off the clay figure, gathered him up, and marched to the edge of a thick tangle of briars. The bushes were wild, thorny, and deep, the kind of place most animals avoided. Brer Fox swung Brer Rabbit once, twice, and threw him in. The bushes shook. Leaves rattled. Then all went still. Brer Fox waited for cries. Instead he heard laughter from the middle of the thorns. Out popped Brer Rabbit's head, bright-eyed and very comfortable. "Brer Fox," he called, "you should never hand a rabbit the very thing he asks you not to face. I was born near briars. I know their paths better than you know your own doorway." With that he slipped deeper into the patch and vanished. Brer Fox lunged after him, got two thorns in his nose and one in his tail, and backed out yelping. He had trapped Brer Rabbit with clay, but Brer Rabbit had escaped with wit. And from that day on, whenever Brer Rabbit felt his temper rising, he remembered the silent figure by the path and how quickly anger can stick tighter than clay.