The Springfield Fox 



fully about the lower ford I saw a few fox-tracks 

 and a barred feather from one of our Plymouth 

 Rock chickens. On climbing the farther bank 

 in search of more clews, I heard a great outcry 

 of crows behind me, and turning, saw a number 

 of these birds darting down at something in the 

 ford. A better view showed that it was the old 

 story, thief catch thief, for there in the middle 

 of the ford was a fox with something in his 

 jaws — he was returning from our barnyard with 

 another hen. The crows, though shameless rob- 

 bers themselves, are ever first to cry ' Stop 

 thief,' and yet more than ready to take 'hush- 

 money ' in the form of a share in the plunder. 



And this was their game now. The fox to 

 get back home must cross the river, where he 

 was exposed to the full brunt of the crow mob. 

 He made a dash for it, and would doubtless have 

 gotten across with his booty had I not joined in 

 the attack, whereupon he dropped the hen, 

 scarce dead, and disappeared in the woods. 



This large and regular levy of provisions 

 wholly carried off could mean but one thing, a 

 family of little foxes at home ; and to find them 

 I now was bound. 



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