Concord, Mass.
1900.
June 16
(No 3)
some dense young pines. As he came down the run
before I attracted his attention he trotted, as I have already 
said; not as a dog trots but much more lightly yet
in a tired, listless-seeming way more nearly like that
of a Coyote. While approaching me after I had begun squeaking
his gait was a quick, nervous, yet singularly stealthy &
noiseless walk, the head & tail carried low & in line
with the body, the steps carefully regulated to avoid
dry twigs or clusters of dead leaves. When he made the 
final halt and I gave my last squeak his eyes roved
excitedly from side to side looking eagerly for some
movement on the part of the supposed mouse and I
could see the muscles swell in his lean fore arms as
he prepared to spring. I could not help feeling a
bit nervous at this moment for he was a big fellow
and as gaunt & grim looking as a starved Wolf.
His color was faded and yellowish while his hair
had fallen or worn off in places giving his coat a
ragged, mangy appearance. But his worst feature
was his close-set, deeply-sunken, shifty eyes which seemed
to express a mixture of hard shrewdness, remorseless
cruelty and deep blood-guiltiness. They fairly made
me shudder as they peered intently at me from
so short a distance yet, strange to say, they did
not once seem to meet mine. Indeed their owner
appeared all the while to be looking past or through
rather than at me. I must confess to a feeling
of deep relief when he finally turned & fled
although there was not, of course, the slightest
danger of his attacking me. I suppose he mistook
me for the stump of a tree
"Squeaking up"
a Fox at
Pulpit Rock.
35