Red Fox 
their haunches dog-fashion in the middle of a meadow, listening 
for mice. Two years ago, in September, | was going through 
a piece of low, swampy woodland where every leaf dripped and 
shimmered from the late shower. The blue jays and thrushes 
were scolding at a hawk somewhere among the trees, and in 
order to find out what it was that disturbed them | imitated the 
cry of a young bird in distress as well as I could. In a few 
minutes a Cooper’s hawk appeared and alighted in a low tree not 
far away; but he was not the only hunter that I had deceived, 
for while | was watching the hawk I caught sight of a young 
fox coming from another direction and already within three or four 
rods of me. The woods were fairly free from underbrush just 
there, and he was walking leisurely along over the wet leaves, 
looking about eagerly on all sides and then up at the blue jays 
that were screeching overhead. He looked as if just waked up 
from his nap, and kept shutting his eyes and yawning until his 
jaws stood at right angles with each other. Although but little 
more than half-grown, he had lost all trace of the fat, woolly 
appearance of a fox-cub; his new autumn coat of red fur was as 
bright and smooth and his legs as black as anything could be. 
He was absolutely unconscious of my presence, and for a few 
moments | saw the woods as they should be seen, and forgot that 
I myself was there; but only the fox and the yellow-eyed hawk 
and the blue jays and the wet leaves after the rain; all grouped 
to be seen once so clearly as to never grow indistinct in memory. 
When the fox was within a few yards of me he stopped 
short in his tracks and stared for a few seconds, but without tak- 
ing fright; on the contrary, he came still nearer, until, when only 
a few steps away, he caught my scent, and turning went bound- 
ing off among the trees. Almost always when you meet a fox 
in the woods he pretends not to see you, but changes his course 
casually, as if, perhaps, he had just heard a mouse over there 
among the stumps. He does not increase his speed ‘in the 
slightest degree until he is behind some tree or rock; then away 
he goes at a tremendous rate, always keeping the tree between 
you and himself until well out of gunshot. 
The thin, querulous, husky barking of the fox is not by any 
means an attractive sound, particularly when heard in the distance 
on still winter nights; but at times they utter a long, wild screech 
that would do credit to a panther. This cry is heard oftenest 
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