LAMB, SHEPHERD AND FOX 63 



him by low and sweet thrush-like calls, most of them to 

 the end of persuading the dog to crouch and keep himself 

 out of sight. If he so much as stood upright by the gate 

 the ewes evinced a certain uneasiness. The sheep, per 

 haps, deserves its constant epithet of &quot; silly,&quot; in the 

 worse and later sense, but it has good senses. It sees 

 well and smells well. Neither dog nor fox is likely to 

 approach unseen. 



The hungry fox or vixen, who cannot succeed by 

 mere furtiveness, openly advances towards a twin lamb 

 which is at once defended by the ewe. She retreats with 

 the lamb as close to her side as young wild-duck to the 

 mother when danger threatens. As soon as the sham 

 pursuit has proceeded far enough, the fox retires and 

 attacks the second of the lambs, by this time left in isola 

 tion. It is only, of course, the very young lambs that 

 are attacked. We see so little on our farms of a &quot; nature 

 red in tooth and claw &quot; that we can scarcely believe that 

 any remnants of the life of the wild survive among us. 

 It is long since the monkish chroniclers of Crowland 

 recorded the ravages of &quot; that grey beast, the wolf of 

 the Weald,&quot; and even the eagle is known to few shep 

 herds, or that much more savage killer, the greater black- 

 headed gull. Yet our foxes have remained a bane to the 

 flocks in Australia, where they were introduced for the 

 amusement of an early garrison who desired to hunt. Our 

 English foxes and badgers obey the happy rule of our 

 temperate island that they keep within measure and, 

 whatever their minor offences, are virtuous members 

 of a well-behaved community. 



A rumbling and a liquid noise, not heard in the village 

 for several years, once more echoes off the walls of the 



