Fox Hunting On Prince Edward’s Island 
A Half-Century of the Sport Has Given This Writer Experiences Worth Talking About 
By Robert Jenkins. 
I PIN'D on studying my records that I have 
been shooting every year for the past fifty 
years, not all the time of course, but from 
two to ten weeks yearly. I could tell of many in¬ 
teresting experiences, as during the first thirty 
years game was very plentiful, but of late year* 
it seems to be growing steadily less. The snipe 
and black duck, however, are holding their own 
fairly well; and, as all sportsmen know, either 
makes fine shooting. To me the woodcock ha* 
always held the first place in bird shooting. 
The fox chase, however, takes first number, 
and can easily be called the King of Sports. One 
thing now surprises me, and that is that I did not 
get hold of this fact till late in life. Years ago 
one could start a fox out of almost every bush, 
but of late years, or since the Island folk have 
gone into fox farming so extensively, they are 
becoming very scarce, as almost all the dens are 
robbed of their young every spring to fill the 
ranches. 
Four years ago a small company of sportsmen, 
the writer among the number, bought a fox¬ 
hound named “Dixie,” and up till the present 
time have sold two hundred dollars’ worth of 
foxes, shot and captured before the hound. One 
had some good sport. Last year we made six 
trials, and our dog ran a fox each day. We shot 
four, another was shot at a number of times but 
lost, the other one was started late in the day, 
and a storm coming on, we called the dog off. 
This winter we made four trips. The first 
day it rained, and we had to return home. The 
next day was also a failure, as we searched all 
day, but could not start a fox; some tracks, but 
none fresh enough for a starter. In a few days 
another call was made, but only three sports an¬ 
swered to their names on this occasion, as th« 
two days before had dampened their ardor. 
But with fox hunting, as with everything else, 
it’s the ones that stick at it that reap the reward. 
This day, twenty minutes after our teams were 
tied up, we put Dixie’s nose to a fresh trail. 
After going a few paces he left it and began to 
circle. We thought that our dog was beginning 
to loose his cunning, as he is growing old, but 
soon saw what the trouble was. There were two 
foxes, and it was the female he was seeking to 
follow, and in a short time he was giving tongue 
freely. The two foxes came out of the bush, 
but too far from the writer to shoot, but one of 
them ran almost against one of the other chaps, 
who happened to be an amateur. 
I asked him why he did not shoot. He said his 
gun was standing against a tree, and he had his 
gloves on; a very good reason, surely, “but not 
a very sportsmanlike one.” He did enough, how¬ 
ever, to cause the fox to bolt, and I saw at once 
we were in for a long chase, as when a fox sees 
a man's face he generally gives the place a wide 
berth. This was about 9.30 A. M., and up till 12 
o’clock that fox did all the stunts any fox is 
capable of; going under and over windfalls, 
through cleared fields and thick undergrowth, 
leaping brooks, etc. But Dixie was always there, 
and pressing closer all the time. 
In the meantime the hunters got separated, and 
neither knew where the others were. As far as 
I was concerned, the hound had passed out of 
hearing, but I came across the amateur, and he 
said he saw the direction the fox and hound took. 
So we followed, and after going about a half 
mile we heard the dog still barking. Dixie had 
heard us coming, and began barking to let us 
know his whereabouts. Sure enough, when we 
had come to the place we found the snow literally 
covered with empty shells, and the dog standing 
guard at the entrance of the den. The other man 
had followed the dog and fired his ammunition 
to draw our attention, but the snow on the bush 
seemed to destroy the sound. Failing to bring 
us, he left the dog and had gone in search of us. 
It was now up to us to unload some shells, 
and in a short time gunner number one appeared. 
As a live fox was worth five dead ones, we de¬ 
cided to dig her out, and after two hours’ hard 
work captured our fox, a beautiful female. We 
put her in a sack and started home, leaving the 
others for another day. A short time later we 
sold her for forty-five dollars. 
Our next call came about a week later, and five 
sports turned up on this occasion. We started 
for a place called Point Prim, but on our way 
down the river we let the dog enter a small bush 
where we had previously got foxes. In a short 
time the dog was giving tongue freely, but the 
owner of the bush turned up at this juncture and 
requested us to call the dog off. As a matter of 
course, we acquiesced, but it was much against 
our taste. Four of the boys went into the cover 
to call off the dog, while I chatted with the 
boss, who finally remarked that those chap* 
seemed to be a long time capturing the dog. I 
reminded him that it was no easy matter to call 
a hound off a fresh trail, 
Just then two shots were fired. I remarked 
that I thought the hound would likely be cap¬ 
tured now. A few minutes later three very inno¬ 
cent-looking boys came out of the bush leading 
the hound by the leash, but the fourth was no¬ 
where to be seen. The owner of the cover seemed 
now quite satisfied, and started home. We found 
our missing friend a short time later out on the 
ice, but he had swelled up very much since we 
last saw him. Not his head, however, but hi* 
body, and on examination we discovered a thir- 
teen-and-a-half-pound fox stowed away under 
his coat. There was another fox in the bush, but 
we left her to breed. 
We then headed for Point Prim, and ten min¬ 
utes after landing, our dog took a fresh trail. 
One of the gunners fired at close range, but 
missed. The fox broke cover and started south 
with the hound in full pursuit, and was soon out 
of hearing. After consultation we decided to let 
two of the youngest men, our best shots, follow 
the dog. After two hours’ walking they came 
up to the hound and fox, but try as they would, 
could not get a shot. 
As the day was wearing away, they decided to 
call off the dog, but “Dixie” wasn’t satisfied, 
broke away again, and in a short time was in full 
pursuit. Nothing was left to them but to agair 
(Continued on page 485.) 
With a Well Directed Shot He Laid Poor Reynard in the Snow. 
477 
