With the Fox-Cubs at Dusk 



YESTERDAY evening I visited a Fort. It was one of the 

 many great, circular, centuries-old Danish structures 

 that are so numerous in this eastern part of County 

 Cavan. Its ramparts and fosses are still well-defined 

 despite the ravages of ages. Its inhabitants used it as 

 their home in times of peace, and as their stock-yard 

 and stronghold when invasion threatened. In those 

 far-off days when even crude artillery was unknown, and 

 sheer man-power counted, the architect who designed it 

 should be complimented on his choice of such a strategic 

 position. The inhabitants evidently disliked isolation, 

 and their fortress was erected on such a well-chosen 

 eminence that they were in full view of their neighbours 

 on some adjoining hill : indeed, it is a local belief in 

 these parts that seven neighbouring forts are visible 

 from any particular one. 



Although their human inhabitants have long since 

 departed, these forts are not untenanted. The dense 

 trees that invariably crown their top ramparts act as 

 local bird sanctuaries; the tangled bracken that drapes 

 the sweep of their buttresses, choking their fosses, is 

 a paradise for rabbits; and the deep-tunnelled, impreg- 

 nable earths that can defy the stoutest terrier provide 

 the safest of breeding-grounds for foxes. 



