THE RED FOX. 



Like the Squirrels, Foxes vary 

 in size and color according to 

 the countries in which they 

 live. Their habits are mostly 

 nocturnal, that is to say, they 

 prowl around after dark. 



By day the Fox lies concealed 

 in his burrow — if he owns a 

 house of that sort — or else in the 

 depths of some thicket. Toward 

 evening he goes out in search of 

 something to eat — Hare, Rabbit, 

 Pheasant, Mouse, or Bird. 



Reynard, as the Fox is often 

 called, does not attempt to chase 

 the Hare, for it would be too 

 swift for him, nor the Rabbit, 

 for it would quickly dive into 

 its hole, nor the Pheasant, for it 

 would fly away. No, indeed! 

 Mr. Fox is too cunning for that. 

 He just quietly creeps to some 

 place where Hares or Rabbits 

 or Pheasants are likely to pass, 

 and then as they run by him, 

 out he pounces and secures his 

 evening meal. 



AYhen the Rabbit has a nest 

 full of little "Bunnies," she 

 takes good care to keep them at 

 the end of the burrow. It is too 

 small for the Fox to creep into, 

 so she thinks they are safe. But 

 Mr. Fox finds a way, a much 

 better way, he thinks, to get at 

 the little, soft, furry things, 

 which will hardly make him a 



meal anyway. He sniffs around, 

 locates the spot right above the 

 the burrow, digs downward, and 

 soon — well, when he gets through 

 there are no '^ Bunnies" in the 

 nest. Mr. Fox smiles, winks 

 one eye, and trots off. 



Sometimes he steals into a 

 hen-roost, and woe to nearly every 

 chicken in the roost. He eats 

 all he can, carries some of them 

 home, and the remainder he 

 buries for future use. 



"Cunning as a Fox." That 

 is an old saying, you know, and 

 we apply it to persons who take 

 advantage of heir fellow beings. 



However, no matter how great 

 a rascal the Fox is, we must pity 

 him when pursued for "sport" 

 by a pack of hounds, as well 

 as men and women. When 

 irritated or alarmed, the Fox 

 gives off a strong, disagreeable 

 scent, which lies so long on the 

 ground that it may be perceived 

 for nearly an hour after he has 

 passed. He has been known to 

 dive into a heap of manure to 

 throw the dogs off the scent; 

 jumping over a wall, run a little 

 way, come back again, lie under 

 the wall until all the dogs had 

 passed, then leap a second time 

 over the same place where he 

 had passed before, and make off 

 on his old track. 



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