286 A GAMEKEEPER'S NOTE-BOOK 



We met a gamekeeper who had been blessed with a 

 litter of fox cubs born about the middle of December 



just before the usual mating-time of the foxes. 

 Cubs When most of the season's cubs would be 

 mas k rn these Christmas cubs would be three 



months old, and well grounded in the 

 elements of a fox's education. And when the 

 pheasants and partridges began to sit they could save 

 their mother a deal of laborious work as our friend 

 the keeper found out. In cub-hunting days, there 

 must have been some rude shocks for the puppies of 

 the pack, and even the old stagers of hounds must 

 have been taken aback when they came to close 

 quarters with one of these forward cubs. The keeper 

 caught one, and by a strange chance. He had been 

 expecting a visit from hounds. He knew an earth 

 where he thought that possibly a vixen later on might 

 have a family ; not willing to disturb the place by 

 spade-work when stopping it, he stuffed the entrance 

 with sacks. Hounds came and went and afterwards 

 the keeper visited the earth to recover his sacks. 

 What was his surprise when he found that inside one 

 of the sacks a cub had curled itself comfortably for 

 sleep. Well knowing that if he were to say there was 

 a litter of cubs on his ground at Christmas none would 

 believe him, he put the cub into a capacious pocket. 

 Then when he told the story of his early litter, and was 

 laughed at for his pains, he confounded sceptics by 

 drawing the little fox, alive and uninjured, from his 

 coat-tails. 



