Natural History 383 



This morning I took up another fox-trail. The frost 

 was intense, the snow was dry and powdery and as each 

 foot was raised it fell back; so that the track was merely 

 shapeless dimples in the whiteness. No tell-tale details 

 of toes and claws were there, but still I knew it for a 

 fox-trail. It was too small for a coyote. There were 

 but two others that might have been confounded with it; 

 one a very large house-cat, the other a very small house- 

 dog. 



The fox has the supple paw of the cat. It spreads even 

 more, but it shows the long, intractile claws. As a stepper 

 the fox ranks close to the cat. His trail is noted also 

 for its narrowness — that is, the feet are set nearly in one 

 straight line. This in a trail usually means a swift animal; 

 while the badly spread marks, seen at a maximum in the 

 badger, stand for great but sluggish strength. (Illustra- 

 tion 10.) 



The region put the cat out of the reckoning. Besides, 

 at one or two places, the paw had grazed the snow, showing 

 two long furrows, the marks of claws that do not sheathe: 

 dog-marks, perhaps, but never a cat's. The marks were 

 aligned like a cat's, but were fourteen inches apart, while 

 it is rare for a cat to step more than ten. 



They were not dog-marks: first, the probabilities were 

 against it; second, the marks were nearly in a Hne, showing 

 a chest too narrow for a dog. Then the toes did not drag, 

 though there was four inches of snow. The register 

 could not be distinguished, but there was one feature 

 that settled all doubt — the big, soft, shallow marks 

 of the fox's brush, sometimes sweeping the snow 

 at every yard, sometimes not at all for fifty steps, and 

 telling me with certainty, founded in part on the other 

 things — "This is the trail of a fox." 



Which way is he going? is the next question, not easy 



