An Impudent Fox No animal has the impudence of the
fox when he knows he is safe. The one I saw came along a high bank, and looked down the road to see that no one was about. 1 was sitting on a gate, a hundred yards away, but there was no doubt that he had seen me. He stood perfectly still looking over his shoulder, then trotted daintily down the bank to the road where he stopped again, lifting his muzzle and scenting his prey or his enemies. It is unusual to see a fox about in broad daylight at this time of year. He hunts at night, and night is long enough for him to find food and run his trail. Later on, when he takes to sleeping out in the bracken or gorse, he may be disturbed and sent running over a field in the bright sun, but just now he is generally snug in the lair in day-time. After he had gone through into the next field, I got off the gate and went quietly along the grass verge, hoping to see him going down the side of the hedge. He had vanished, faded away, as I have often known a hare or a pheasant to do. There was no sign that he had ever been there. The mud of the field carried not a single print of his pads.
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