IN BERKSHIRE FIELDS 



leap, it was plain that the fox had come later. I 

 hurried on, intent to see, if I could, whether the fox 

 had caught his prey. After a few hundred yards 

 the rabbit had reached a spot where there were 

 numerous swamp-maple seedlings from a foot to six 

 feet high, and here he had fed, his sharp teeth cut- 

 ting off the tender shoots as cleanly as a pruning- 

 knife. Not only had he eaten several shoots the 

 preceding night, but many of the larger seedlings 

 showed the scars of feedings a year old, or even 

 more, some trees having had to renew their leader 

 from a lateral branch. Either this rabbit or his 

 parents had long used this spot as a feeding-ground. 

 The cottontail had eaten not more than five shoots 

 for his meal, so far as I could see, each about the 

 thickness of a fat match, and probably from six to 

 fourteen inches long. But he had hopped about a 

 good deal in the process, and made several excur- 

 sions into the surrounding swamp. Perhaps, as a 

 result of all these tracks, the fox had given up the 

 scent and gone off after an easier trail. At any 

 rate, he had gone off, and my friend had escaped him 

 for one more night. 



It is a curious fact about rabbits that they are 

 plentiful sometimes for several seasons, and then, 

 quite suddenly, greatly diminish in number. Some 

 observers declare this due to an epidemic, and one 

 game warden I know maintains that the epidemic 

 occurs at seven-year intervals. But the evidence 

 for any such sweeping statement is scanty and in- 

 conclusive. During the bitter winter of 191 7-18, 

 for example, the presence of unusual numbers of 

 goshawks in New England was explained by the 



