and premises. Frequently, in the late winter, I 

 have followed their tracks on these night jour- 

 neys through the snow between ponds more 

 than a mile apart. 



But there is larger game abroad than musk- 

 rats and possums. These October nights the 

 quail are in covey, the mice are alive in the dry 

 grass, and the foxes are abroad. Lying along 

 the favorite run of Reynard, you may see him. 

 There are many sections of the country where 

 the rocks and mountains and wide areas of 

 sterile pine-land still afford the foxes safe 

 homes ; but in most localities Reynard is rapidly 

 becoming a name, a creature of fables and folk- 

 lore only. The rare sight of his clean, sharp 

 track in the dust, or in the mud along the 

 margin of the pond, adds flavor to a whole 

 day's tramping ; and the glimpse of one in the 

 moonlight, trotting along a cow-path or lying 

 low for Br'er Rabbit, is worth many nights of 

 watching. 



I wish the game-laws could be amended to 



cover every wild animal left to us. In spite of 



laws they are destined to disappear ; but if the 



fox, weasel, mink, and skunk, the hawks and 



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