THE FOX. 29 



In the daytime, jays, crows, magpies, wrens, 

 and other birds proclaim at once the presence 

 of a fox the instant he moves in covert, or when 

 they catch sight of him in thf^ open ; but in the 

 dusk a drowsy blackbird heralds his departure. 

 There is no mistaking its well-known notes of 

 warning: "Tuk! Tuk! T'wit, t'vvit, t'wit, t'wit !" 

 The rabbit sits up and stamps his foot, watching 

 our friend as he passes by, with more of curiosity 

 than alarm ; the fox, however, turns a deaf ear 

 to the one, and does not even condescend a 

 passing glance at the other, but continues on 

 his way, pausing occasionally and listening 

 intently to ascertain if the coast is clear. At last, 

 having apparently satisfied himself that all is 

 quiet, he utters the peculiar bark which sounds 

 so weird in the stillness of the night, three 

 (sometimes four) short, sharp, little " yelps," 

 repeated in quick succession, the last with 

 rather a sad ring in it, and pitched in a 

 slightly higher key; and, if you are close 

 enough at the time, you will hear a sort of 

 rumbling in the throat preceding them, rather 

 difficult to describe on paper. R-r-r-ow— gow 



gow gow (ow sounded as in cow) is 



almost as near as one can get it, I think. And 



