FOX-HUNTING IN NEW ENGLAND 21 



and never suspect that his keen eyes were watch- 

 ing you, or that the shght rustle of fallen leaves 

 you heard was caused by his departing footsteps, 

 as he stole away with a tree between you and him. 



It is doubtful if the fox much resorts to his bur- 

 rows except in great stress of weather and during 

 the breeding season, or when driven to earth by 

 relentless pursuit. For the most part, he takes 

 his hours of ease curled up on some knoll, rock, 

 or stump, his dense fur defying northern blasts 

 and the "nipping and eager air" of the coldest 

 winter night. Shelter from rain or snowstorms he 

 undoubtedly will take, for he is not overfond of 

 being bedraggled, though it is certain he will some- 

 times take to the water and cross a stream with- 

 out being driven to it. 



Reynard goes wooing in February, and travels 

 far and wide in search of sweethearts, toying with 

 every vixen he meets, but faithful to none, for his 

 love is more fleeting than the tracks he leaves in 

 the drifting snow. In April the vixen, having set 

 her house in order by clearing it of rubbish, brings 

 forth her young — from three to six or more at 

 a litter. This house is sometimes a burrow in 

 sandy soil with several entrances; sometimes a 

 den in the rocks, and sometimes, in old woods, a 

 hollow log. In four or five weeks the queer little 

 pug-nosed cubs begin to play about the entrance. 

 The mother hunts faithfully to provide them food, 



