FOREST AND STREAM. 


My Last Bout with the Fox. 
BY JOSEPH W. STROUT. 
“You’rE too old to be chasing foxes,’ my boys 
say, and I suppose they are right, for now they, 
have boys of their own, and it would seem as if 
it were time to retire from the strenuous life of 
the hunt. But old age is relative, and one need 
not stop work because a few grandchildren have 
come along. Seventy is not old unless one wants 
to. be old, and then he can be accommodated at 
fifty. It’s a matter of one’s way of looking at 
life and living. Then I am very positive my one 
pastime of chasing the fox has kept me young. I 
am really younger than my boys, and | think life 
promises more to me than it does to them. And 
this youth of mine, I think, I owe to the chase. 
Oh, now and then I have hunted the bear, and 
often the mink—never the deer, too much like my 
favorite ox, too human—and the partridge and 
woodcock, but the red fox is my favorite pastime. 
He’s a wily fellow and one finds himself up 
against brains when he attempts a bout with 
Master Reynard. 
I cannot jump quite so far as I used to, nor 
run so fast, but I keep up the running and jump- 
ing, and withal the study of the fox. I find also 
that I do not get too old to learn, and it has stood 
me in hand, for recently I have found a fox who 
knows more than I ever dreamed one could learn. 
This last lesson I learned about a week ago, has 
made so deep an impression upon me that I am 
going to retire from the field of hunting this 
animal. My hound is one of the best of dogs 
for the fox. I have never known her to fail, or 
never but once, and that I am writing about 
now. For the last seven or eight months she 
has had four youngsters hanging at her heels who 
haven’t earned. their salt, so about a week ago 
there dawned one of those rare days that call 
you with strong appeals into the woods. | thought 
it a good time to see if those four great boys of 
Vick’s had anything in them that promised re- 
sults for the fox chase. It’s a fox country this 
eastern part of Maine, and I had not to go far 
to start one. I held the youngsters close, for 
they wouldn’t know any better than to dash after 
the first jack rabbit that was started, and time 
was worth too much to bother with that kind of 
game, There was a place that Vick and I knew, 
and the fox knew it also, and we all loved the 
spot. 
a let Vick loose about 3 o’clock and took a 
position on a knoll overlooking a river and a ° 
wide plain on both sides that had been cleared 
quite recently and burnt over. Vick took her 
boys and led off into the brush. It promised 
great sport for them, but she was planning some 
fun at their expense, I knew by the sly wag of 
her tail, as she started. . But before I was half 
ready for the fun Vick’s voice sounded a serious 
note which meant an old veteran had _ been 
started. No. Io is a rough country, and this par- 
ticular spot the roughest place in it, for here the 
river had cut a cafion into the rocks some twenty 
feet deep, and now down there was dashing over 
the stones with a full flood. This cafion was 
about two miles long, and at the top all the way 
from twenty to thirty feet wide. 
I could tell by Vick’s voice that the game was 
runnine toward the river. He would come out 
in plain sight, so I sat still and watched. I ex- 
pected him to turn when he saw what was ahead 
of him, but he did not. He came leisurely toward 
it, and so near that I might have shot him, but I 
wanted to train the dogs more than I wanted this 
fox, though he was a fine specimen. About fifty 
feet from the river he stood on a spot where the 
dogs caught sight of him and made a rush, and 
the fox ran for the river, jumped across it as 
easy as a squirrel jumps from branch to branch 
of a tree, and then leisurely took his way up the 
opposite bank, in plain sight of the dogs. This 
“was a shrewd trick. 




| GANIE 

made the dogs fierce, and down they came for 
the river, pell mell, Vick leading, but one of the 
youngsters at her side and the others good sec- 
onds. I yelled at them, for I knew the pups 
could not jump that cafion if Vick herself could, 
but they paid no heed to me, and Vick bounded 
across the river as easily as the fox, The big 
boy at her side followed and landed safe on the 
other bank, while the others, when they saw the 
river, hesitated just enough to lose their momen- 
tum, but. unable to check themselves entirely, 
made the leap and went into the river. 
The water was deep and they did not get much 
hurt, but they would have to go a mile and a 
half before they could make a landing. ‘The fox 
meanwhile took his way up the inclined plane, to- 
ward the knoll on which I was standing, within 
easy gun shot again, but I didn’t shoot, and I 
don’t know why, Vick and the big boy followed 
him close, and, as I expected, though at the time 
it surprised me, Master Reynard just compassed 
the knoll on which I stood and ran back to the 
river. This he leaped, again landing on a bank 
two or three ‘féet higher than the one from 
which he sprang, and sped away for the woods. 
Hie seemed careful to let the dogs see him just _ 
before they reached the river, and I began to 
think that there was method in his madness. 
“Vick, can you jump that river again?’ I 
mentally asked as she dashed headlong toward 
it. But she was a powerful animal, and knew 
what was ahead of her, and, like the fox, laid 
herself out for the effort, and landed on the 
opposite bank safely. Not so the big boy. He 
just touched the opposite bank with his paws 
and fell backward into the stream below. He 
was eliminated from the race. This I now saw 
was just what that fox had planned to do. It 
He would lead the dogs 
across the river and one by one sift the num- 
ber down to none. But the dog that was left 
was equal to almost any feat that a fox could 
perform, and in endurance, superior to any fox 
1 had ever seen. Master Reynard ran into the 
brush a little way, turned his circle neatly, and 
reappeared in sight of the dog, on the little 
rise above the river, and set out again for a 
spring across. He veered a little this time and 
leaped the river in a wider place, but landed 
easily. Vick followed and jumped the river as 
easily as the fox, and followed up the opposite 
bank. The fox compassed the knoll again, yet 
the dog was creeping up on him, and both of 
them were enjoying the race. This was the 
coolest fox I had ever seen. It seems just as 
if he knew I would not fire, and that in the 
end he could easily outwit the dog, but would 
have some fun first. He leaped the river again, 
and followed his old track into the brush op- 
posite. Vick came after him, fresher than ever, 
and closer, bounded across the river easier than 
the fox, and followed into the wood. 
“She'll get him!” I ejaculated, and began to 
pity the fox. I had almost a mind to call her 
off. But the race was too interesting, and I 
schooled myself to watch it to the bitter end. 
The dog’s voice told me where they were, 
and I could measure the time exactly when they 
would reappear. The fox came in sight with 
Vick not more than a hundred yards behind, 
and dashed for the river. Vick came on at the 
old pace, and also made a dash for the river. 
Both leaped it successfully, and took the route 
round my knoll. I wondered if he would get 
round again, for Vick was drawing up on him 
rapidly, and she had tremendous reserve forces 
at her command in critical times. But the fox 
did not seem to be in a hurry, took his old gait 
round the hill, made a dash for the river, with 
Vick not twenty yards from him. Vick seeing 
her advantage, now made the most desperate 
spurt I ever saw her make, and when the fox 
reached the river, she was within five feet of him. 

“It’s all over with you now, old red,” I 
thought, “yet Master Reynard made his spring 
with the old, exasperating coolness, but instead 
of jumping across the river, sprang sidewayS, 
landing on a jutting ledge, while Vick, blinded 
with rage and overconfidence, had to jump 
across, which she did easily, but then seeing 
the trick, she .lost her head and tried to leap 
back, and went into the river. I threw up my 
hat for the fox. 
_ “You've earned your liberty, old fellow, go - 
in peace. I'll never molest you or your tribe 
ASE UGE I 
I found my dogs about a mile down the river, 
the pups jumping about their mother with great 
delight, while she, poor girl, could not so much 
as wag her tail. 
The Belle Meade Deer. 
THE famous Belle Meade stock farm, near 
Nashville, ‘’enn., is now being converted to other 
uses, and it has become necessary to dispose of 
the deer herds so long quarantined there, In a 
recent issue the Nashville Banner proposed a 
scheme for their disposition: 
“Belle Meade’s hundreds of beautiful deer can 
no longer live in the splendid park of the famous 
oid plantaticn, in which they have roamed in 
lordly freedom almost since the days of the red 
man. he hand of progress and modern civili- 
zations has grasped Belle’ Meade deer park. The 
sound of blasting is heard there, the clank of the 
driul and the ring of the spade. It-is no longer a 
home for the deer. These deer. are in the hands 
of Mr. J. B. Richardson as administrator of the 
estates of W. H. Jackson and W. H. Jackson, Jr. 
they are valuable animals. There are between 
250 and 400 of them in the park. They cannot be 
captured and sold, That has been tried, and it 
has been found impossible to deliver the goods, 
as it were, after a sale has been made. In the 
gaine season they would be worth perhaps $10 
apiece and the entire lot between $2,500 and 
$3,500. As they are valuable, it can readily be 
seen that Mr. RKichardson, as administrator, with 
property entrusted to his care, could not give 
property of such value away for nothing. He 
could not be expected to’do such a thing, and 
were he to do so, no matter how much he might 
so desire, he could doubtless be made to pay the 
value of that portion of the estate he had sacri- 
ficed, 
“Another of those who are most interested in 
the preservation of the deer of Belle. Meade is 
Col. Joseph H. Acklen, Tennessee’s most efficient 
and hard-working game warden. Colonel Acklen 
has already spent thousands of dollars out of his 
own pocket in the work of preserving the game 
of Tennessee, without being reimbursed. The 
Legislature of the State has provided him with 
no means to carry on his work, although the De- 
partment is one of the most important in this or 
any other State. Had he the funds at his dis- 
posal, Colonel Acklen would not hesitate to buy 
the deer and turn them loose, could they be pur- 
chased at a reasonable price. He will, do even 
more, Were the deer relased, Colonel Acklen 
agrees to strike off 40,000 circulars showing that 
deer cannot, under the law, be killed in this State 
for a period of two years. It is believed that, 
should the deer be released, the Legislature could 
be induced at the next term to protect them fur- 
ther by legislation, and thus in a few years Ten- 
nessee could have plenty of deer, and a sport 
that is royal, and which has been impossible for 
years on account of the scarcity of the fleet- 
footed and beautiful game, will be revived. 
“Although he cannot give the deer away, and as 
he does not want to slaughter them, and as some 
disposition must be made of them at once, Mr. 
Richardson has consented to take a nominal sum 
for them. He has agreed that he would take 
