Fox Ways. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
The northern spur of the Helderbergs, 
through which the Bozenkill flows, is a famous 
range for the red fox. In this locality three 
farmer neighbors and myself, unaided by 
hounds, killed and made captive twenty or more 
foxes, old and young, in four years. Although 
hounded in winter and waylaid and taken by 
incensed farmers in summer, the animals still 
hold their own, and were never so bold as 
during the past season. 
For one whole summer after our four-year 
campaign my Plymouth Rocks roamed unmo¬ 
lested beyond the orchard and up to the 
woods, but one morning late in September of 
the following year I heard cries of distress 
from the flock. The birds came running and 
flying down to the barn. Presently a fox 
emerged from the second-growth timber above 
the orchard and at a glance located the only 
fowl remaining in the field. I had the gun out 
in record time and started in hot pursuit. She 
abandoned her breakfast and gained file woods 
by making a long detour. I counted my flock 
and found that seven half-grown cockerels had 
disappeared in three days. It was time to dig 
up the hatchet. 
Early next morning I hid behind a stone wall 
and waited for the fox, gun in hand. As soon 
as it was light a number of foolish fowls 
straggled past toward the woods; in a few 
minutes they came hurrying back with cries of 
alarm. The hungry varlet must have scented 
me, for she remained under cover. 
My oldest boy, a lad of fourteen years, asked 
leave to stand guard on the following morning. 
I consented. He had practiced for some time 
on crows and woodchucks and was better 
qualified for the work than many of his years. 
Besides being a fair marksman, he was not 
deficient in strategy. 
The children had built a playhouse against 
the stone wall, and the boy proceeded to fortify 
the position with rubbish from a brush pile near 
at hand. During the evening we closed the hen 
house lest any early bird interfere with the 
plan. On the following morning the youngster 
took a cockerel, and, tying a string to his leg, 
staked him out in the field twenty-five or thirty 
yards from his fortification. The stars were 
not quite gone when the boy got in position, 
his gun resting on a box of the proper height 
and pointing chicken-ward through a small 
opening in the ambuscade. I retired to the 
barn and waited for the shooting match to be¬ 
gin. Our prospects for a chicken dinner seemed 
favorable. 
A half hour passed. I was busy at the milk¬ 
ing, when I heard a noise like a blast over on 
the new railroad grade. The boy’s ambush 
was so well roofed and walled that the report 
of his gun had a muffled, subterranean sound. 
Feeling quite sure that it was a distant ex¬ 
plosion, I was slow to investigate. However, my 
curiosity grew, and I walked out to get the news. 
“Did you shoot?” I called. 
“Eve got him!” yelled the youngster, with 
more enthusiasm than elegance, as he came 
down the hill through the morning mist drag¬ 
ging the fox by her delicate heels. 
Instead of coming out of the woods, as usual, 
the fox had approached from another direction. 
The cockerel cried out suddenly and the fox, 
whose coming had been hidden by the re¬ 
mains of the neighboring brush pile, rushed 
upon him before the boy was aware. But the 
cockerel was nimble-and his tether long; the 
fox missed and overran him. As she turned 
for another rush, the boy covered her and fired. 
The cockerel was unharmed. 
One of my neighbors had an amusing ex¬ 
perience this season. Late one afternoon his 
flock of geese came squawking up to the barn 
i 
PELICANS AND GULLS IN YELLOWSTONE LAKE. 
From a photograph by Judge Carl von Lervinski. 
while his gander, an unusually fine bird, en¬ 
gaged the attention of a fox and covered the 
retreat of the family. The fox dreaded the 
gander’s powerful, lifted wings. Round and 
round they circled, slowly approaching the farm¬ 
yard, the fox sparring meanwhile for an open¬ 
ing. The fox was a novice, doubtless of the 
same litter as the one that had fallen a few 
days previously in the attempt to capture the 
tethered cockerel, but an older fox might well 
have hesitated before this invincible bird. My 
neighbor rushed to the house and brought out 
his gun and rifle; the rifle he held in reserve 
should the shotgun fail. In order to kill the 
fox and not injure the bird, he waited until the 
fox cut a larger circle than usual, and taking 
careful aim, knocked him over at the first shot. 
While the fox lay kicking and struggling, the 
gander leaped upon him. Victorious bird, how 
he throttled and tweaked and flapped his dying 
enemy! This exhibition of superfluous courage 
added greatly to the gaiety of my neighbor. 
Only a few nights ago I heard a fox barking 
in the pasture across the creek, a wild pup 
learning to bark. Fie came down within 150 
yards of the house. Perhaps my lantern at¬ 
tracted him, as his superior vocal powers at¬ 
tracted me. It was the old weird strain; two 
or three quick, short, hoarse yelps for a pre¬ 
lude, and then a fierce, prolonged yell. It was 
not an honest bark. He lingered a little out 1 
there in the darkness among the hardhack 
and wild apples and then moved leisurely up the 
rocky hill, yelping at intervals, like the ghost 
of a dog “revisiting the glimpses of the moon.” 
I. was reminded that fox ways are the same 
as in the days of the prophets: “Because of 
the mountain of Zion, which is desolate, the 
foxes walk upon it.” 
Will W. Christman. 
Yellowstone Park Notes. 
Gardiner, Mont., Nov. 2 . — Editor Forest anc, 
Stream: This has been an interesting seasor 
in the park, so far as wild life is concerned. 
I have been camped most of the season or 
the shores of the Yellowstone Lake, where oui 
boats are kept. In order to keep the bear 
from troubling our camp, I have had the cool 
deposit all the camp garbage on the shore 0 
the lake for the gulls. After this had been doni 
for some time, a young pelican came there anc 
finally remained all the time in the vicinity anc 
took in all the bones, meat and fish that he coulc 
get hold of. The gulls would walk up the banl 
to pick up anything that was thrown there. A 
one time during the fishing season there wer 
five pelicans staying about to pick up any re 
jected fish. Only one, however, remained wit' 
us constantly until they all left for the Soutl 
This pelican was photographed hundreds 0 
times, but usually at so great a distance that hi 
figure is very small. The gulls became so tam 
that as soon as they saw anyone going to th 
beach with a bucket they would fly screamin 
about him, and as soon as the pail was emptier 
they pounced down on the food before the ma 
had gone ten feet. 
Last spring Captain Bigelow made a scoutin 
trip, during which, on the Pitchstone Plateau, b 
saw signs of two bunches of buffaloes. At the | 
time there were large bands of elk on tb 1 
plateau, following up the melting snow and feet 
ing on the young grass. Peter Milligan reporte 
to Captain Bigelow that he had seen about 1 
thousand deer in the Snake River valley. ^ 
the junction of the Lewis and Snake rivers, Cap 
tain Bigelow saw several otters busy at the 
fishing. They were not alarmed at the men. 
After we had got our boats out of the wat< 
and housed—about the 27th of September—v 
came out with a four-horse team. I had heai 
stories of a band of seven wild buffalo that h; 
been seen across the Yellowstone, at the Fn 
Mile post and other places, and as we went alorj 
we looked for them on the other side of til 
river. Just before we reached the Mud Geysc 
however, we saw one on our side of the rivi 
and a few moments later six others, one of thei 
a calf. The buffalo were on a flat close 
