72 WOODLAND, MOOR, AND STREAM 



sits, and flirts his tail about, shouting * Cuckoo ! 

 Cuckoo!' The entrance to the earth and a small 

 space about it is bare, for the little foxes are playful 

 animals, and are at high jinks often, capering about. 

 At present they are, comparatively speaking, quiet, 

 for all their bellies are full. Father Reynard is sitting 

 in the bright warm sunlight, winking in a most know- 

 ing manner, while two of his cubs play with his 

 bushy tail to their heart's content, tossing it from one 

 side to the other in a most comical fashion. Mother 

 vixen has a rabbit in her mouth, which she tosses 

 up and catches, and then lets drop for one of the 

 young ones to nibble at its ears, while the darling of 

 the family torments a poor frog that has found his 

 way there. The whole lot look as though they had a 

 touch of dropsy, their bellies stick out so. The 

 feathers and feet of pheasants strew the ground, and 

 other remnants, for Reynard's motto is, ' Other 

 creatures' young ones can cry for food if they let 'em ; 

 but mine don't, if I know it.' 



At some distance the alarm note of a blackbird 

 sounds. Reynard opens his eyes, pricks his ears, and 

 the cubs leave off playing with his tail. The next 

 moment a jay squeaks out, and comes flying overhead. 

 That is enough ; he is up on his feet, ears erected, 

 eyes gleaming, and his brush held almost in a line 



