THE FOX. 55 



Many seasons later I again heard the bleating 

 of a fox this time in the hills near Burnsall 

 village. I was spending the evening with a shep- 

 herd in his tiny cabin out on the moors, and as 

 we both sat at the open door, smoking our pipes 

 before he turned in, we heard the bleating of a 

 lamb coming towards us down the wall-side. The 

 cry was exact, save for an indescribable sinister 

 ring about it, which at once raised my suspicions, 

 bringing to mind the night in Dorsetshire some 

 years previous. The shepherd reached for his gun ; 

 but Reynard evidently saw the movement, for 

 there was brilliant moonlight, and we just caught 

 a glimpse of him as he slipped, flattened out, over 

 the wall-top. 



Reynard clearly thinks that by mimicking the 

 cry of a lamb he will spread unrest among the 

 nursing ewes, and if any ewe has lost one of her 

 lambs she may set off eagerly towards the sound, 

 deserting her remaining charge, which is then at 

 the mercy of the fox. 



Rabbits are often called by a fox to within 

 striking distance, Reynard lying concealed behind 

 a tuft of grass or inside a bush, and imitating 

 exactly the squeal of a rabbit in pain. I have myself 

 called rabbits to within a few yards by this means 

 the old bucks or nursing mothers of the colony 

 coming hopping up, stamping, and full of foolish, 

 goggle-eyed importance, to see which member of 

 the community it is that has fallen into difficulties. 

 If the squealing is kept up for any length of time, 

 however, such is the intelligence of the rabbit that 

 the whole colony becomes used to it, and at the 

 end of five minutes or so they take no further 

 notice, merely steering clear of the spot from which 

 the sound issues. 



