Ways of Wood Folk eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 166 pages of information about Ways of Wood Folk.

Ways of Wood Folk eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 166 pages of information about Ways of Wood Folk.

When with all his cunning Reynard is caught napping, he makes use of another good trick he knows.  One winter morning some years ago, my friend, the old fox-hunter, rose at daylight for a run with the dogs over the new-fallen snow.  Just before calling his hounds, he went to his hen-house, some distance away, to throw the chickens some corn for the day.  As he reached the roost, his steps making no sound in the snow, he noticed the trail of a fox crossing the yard and entering the coop through a low opening sometimes used by the chickens.  No trail came out; it flashed upon him that the fox must be inside at that moment.

Hardly had he reached this conclusion when a wild cackle arose that left no doubt about it.  On the instant he whirled an empty box against the opening, at the same time pounding lustily to frighten the thief from killing more chickens.  Reynard was trapped sure enough.  The fox-hunter listened at the door, but save for an occasional surprised cut-aa-cut, not a sound was heard within.

Very cautiously he opened the door and squeezed through.  There lay a fine pullet stone dead; just beyond lay the fox, dead too.

“Well, of all things,” said the fox-hunter, open-mouthed, “if he hasn’t gone and climbed the roost after that pullet, and then tumbled down and broken his own neck!”

Highly elated with this unusual beginning of his hunt, he picked up the fox and the pullet and laid them down together on the box outside, while he fed his chickens.

When he came out, a minute later, there was the box and a feather or two, but no fox and no pullet.  Deep tracks led out of the yard and up over the hill in flying jumps.  Then it dawned upon our hunter that Reynard had played the possum-game on him, getting away with a whole skin and a good dinner.

There was no need to look farther for a good fox track.  Soon the music of the hounds went ringing over the hill and down the hollow; but though the dogs ran true, and the hunter watched the runways all day with something more than his usual interest, he got no glimpse of the wily old fox.  Late at night the dogs came limping home, weary and footsore, but with never a long yellow hair clinging to their chops to tell a story.

The fox saved his pullet, of course.  Finding himself pursued, he buried it hastily, and came back the next night undoubtedly to get it.

Several times since then I have known of his playing possum in the same way.  The little fellow whom I mentioned as living near the wilderness, and snaring foxes, once caught a black fox—­a rare, beautiful animal with a very valuable skin—­in a trap which he had baited for weeks in a wild pasture.  It was the first black fox he had ever seen, and, boylike, he took it only as a matter of mild wonder to find the beautiful creature frozen stiff, apparently, on his pile of chaff with one hind leg fast in the trap.

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Ways of Wood Folk from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.