That done, he withdraws, silent as a shadow, his grip
on the chick's neck preventing any outcry. Hiding his game at a
distance, he creeps back to capture another in the same way; and so on
till he has enough, or till he is discovered, or some half-strangled
chick finds breath enough for a squawk. A hen or turkey knows the
danger by instinct, and hurries her brood into the open at the first
suspicion that a fox is watching.
A farmer, whom I know well, first told me how a fox manages to carry a
number of chicks at once. He heard a clamor from a hen-turkey and her
brood one day, and ran to a wood path in time to see a vixen make off
with a turkey chick scarcely larger than a robin. Several were
missing from the brood. He hunted about, and presently found five more
just killed. They were beautifully laid out, the bodies at a broad
angle, the necks crossing each other, like the corner of a corn-cob
house, in such a way that, by gripping the necks at the angle, all the
chicks could be carried at once, half hanging at either side of the
fox's mouth. Since then I have seen an old fox with what looked like a
dozen or more field-mice carried in this way; only, of course, the
tails were crossed corn-cob fashion instead of the necks.
The stealthiness with which a fox stalks his game is one of the most
remarkable things about him.
Pages:
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27