Flesh-Eating Land Mammals 



The shepherd's dogs look meaningly at their master, 

 who retraces his steps, hoping the noise arises from 

 the shifting of some restless ewes, or maybe the 

 crossing of moving deer. As he strides downhill his 

 dogs whine ominously, and he discerns that there is 

 unrest amongst the flock from some external cause. 

 The dogs give tongue as they scent the trail of the 

 Fox, and the shepherd chides them in case they disturb 

 the ewes that lie at peace. A bleating ewe dashes in 

 front, and as the man calls his dogs to heel he stumbles 

 upon the carcass of a lamb. The dogs are howling 

 with a savageness they never show in the presence of a 

 flock, and in anger the shepherd goads them on to 

 capture and kill. But the slayer has entered the corrie 

 once again, and, knowing the path to the hill-crest from 

 frequent wanderings, soon gains the ridge, and for 

 a second its dim outline dots the sky-line. The raid 

 of the Fox thus may end for a night, for Foxes hate a 

 dog upon their trail, and seldom risk a second foray 

 under the same stars. But on the morrow the Fox 

 will again reach the plateau on the hill-top, and look 

 down that hill -side and listen to the bleating of 

 sheep. It will crawl through the darkness to the spot 

 where it slew the lamb, and dine upon the cold car- 

 cass. The shepherd knows as much, and secretively 

 places a trap, or impregnates the carcass with poison 

 against such a visit. Where the trap is deftly set, the 

 marauder may be found next morning by the side 

 of its innocent victim. Where the unseen poison 



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