lO Ways of Wood Folk. 



into the den's mouth. A moment she stands Hsten- 

 ing, looking; while just within the dark entrance 

 you get glimpses of four pointed black noses, and a 

 cluster of bright little eyes, wide open for a last look. 

 Then she trots away, planning her hunt, till she dis- 

 appears down by the brook. When she is gone, eyes 

 and noses draw back ; only a dark silent hole in the 

 bank is left. You will not see them again — not 

 unless you stay to watch by moonlight till mother- 

 fox comes back, with a fringe of field-mice hanging 

 from her lips, or a young turkey thrown across her 

 shoulders. 



One shrewd thing frequently noticed in the con- 

 duct of an old fox with young is that she never 

 troubles the poultry of the farms nearest her den. 

 She will forage for miles in every direction ; will 

 harass the chickens of distant farms till scarcely a 

 handful remains of those that wander into the woods, 

 or sleep in the open yards ; yet she will pass by and 

 through nearer farms without turning aside to hunt, 

 except for mice and frogs ; and, even when hungry, 

 will note a flock of chickens Avithin sicjht of her den, 

 and leave them undisturbed. She seems to know 

 perfectly that a few missing chickens will lead to a 

 search ; that boys' eyes will speedily find her den, 

 and boys' hands dig eagerly for a litter of young 

 foxes. 



