Well, that's adorable, and Cricket may be misinterpreting the reaction, but he grins a little. "Nawp, those aren't traps on my legs. Just braces. I had rickets when I was little. Bones grew up crooked."

He kind of wants to pet him, but that might be a step too far. Once he decides the fox is calm, he tosses the coat lightly over its back. He leaves the head uncovered and doesn't try to wrap the fabric tight yet because the fox seems pretty trusting and unlikely to snap, but wanting it available just in case. He can't afford to go to a doctor for a bite, and possibly have to get rabies shots--not that the fox looks rabid. Anything but.

"Okay, let's do this. Hol' on a minute and I'll have you out of there." The mechanisms on the trap are weathered and a little rusty. It's probably on the old side. Still, Cricket's hands a pretty strong, and with a couple twists he manages to unlock it, then slowly pry the jaws open.