THE MIND OF THE FOX 63 



simpler, than ours would be. A man thinks of what 

 he is leaving ; a fox cannot do this. The long-drawn- 

 out end is only the fate of one here and there : more 

 often the chase is swift, short, and decisive, and the 

 fox is spared what is the most painful thing to him — 

 the failure of his powers. A fox whose whole mind 

 is concentrated on living, whose whole joy is in the 

 successful carrying-out of the life to which he was 

 born, finds his pain in the sense of failure and weak- 

 ness. But against the pain and failure of the defeated 

 fox, may we not set without fancifulness the more 

 frequent case when the victory remains with him, 

 when he has outpaced, outwitted, and baffled his 

 foes, and can rejoice in his strength and swiftness ? I 

 think the many recorded instances where a fox has 

 been known, in the very heat of being hunted, to turn 

 aside to kill a weaker bird or animal, show at least 

 that his own character of the hunter is more present 

 to his mind than that of the hunted. 



In this, as in many other things, a fox is a paradox, 

 for he probably owes his success in the struggle for 

 existence to the fact that he has been hunted since 

 the world began. He would not be so successful a 

 hunter had he not been hunted : were he not so 

 skilful a beast of prey, he would be more often a 

 victim of the chase. 



