render its escape in the moments of peril quite acceptable to those whose amusement
it is to compass its destruction. An old dog Fox that lived in a cover at
Baconsland near Partridge Green, Sussex, came out, and, threading his way
through the whole of the members of the Crawley and Horsham Hunt, closely
pursued by the pack, made his way in and out of the horsemen to a high bank
on the other side of a field, and tried one after the other every rabbit-hole in
the whole length of a bank, all of which had, of course, been stopped. During
this movement he never lost his head for an instant, but kept dodging the hounds
all the time, just stopping and trying the holes with his foot to see if there was
a chance of entry. Being unsuccessful, he again went through the ordeal of
passing through the horsemen, whilst two or three of the hounds were within a
yard or two of his brush all the time, and so travelled back safely into the cover
from which he had been disturbed. Here he again tried his home earths, and,
satisfied that speed alone would serve for a time, took his ‘ field ’ to another cover,
where he put up a * mangy ’ fox, and, doubling, returned to live another day.
Dr. Juckes, of Horsham, a keen follower of the above hounds, who witnessed
the incident, said that he had never seen a Fox keep his head more beautifully in
trying circumstances.
Almost superhuman intelligence is often attributed to the Fox in his efforts
to elude his pursuers; the following incident, were it not quoted from the lips
of the famous Tom Firr, would seem to be well-nigh incredible. The incident
is told by the editor of the ‘ County Gentleman.’ 1
‘ After a “ blazing” twenty-five minutes the Quorn hunted their Fox into
a spinney, and it looked long odds on their killing him there. Still, one of the
field galloped on to the end of the cover on the chance of viewing him away, and
to his great surprise saw Reynard, just beyond the spinney, rolling over and over
at the bottom of a manure heap before going on. When hounds reached the spot
they threw up their heads— and well they might. Undoubtedly the tactics of this
wily Fox, with a view to destroying his scent, would have been successful had the
occurrence been unobserved; but he had shot his bolt; hounds were lifted across
the next field, and, getting a view, they soon converted him into a “ hundred
tatters of brown.” ’
Foxes have often been known to jump on to the top of a wall, run some
distance, and then double back again, and in so doing, and in swimming down
stream, or wading through shallows, they seem to recognise the necessity of
1 Daily Mail, January 28, 1904.
' killing ’ their own scent. Foxes, too, have frequently taken refuge in trees,1 while
drains are a favourite resort in times of trouble. An instance is given in the
‘ Field’ (January 2, i886)||f a Fox taking to the sea. He was chased to
Ralverhythe from Hollington Church Wood by the East Sussex hounds, anil,
after lying on the beach for some time, took to the water and swam nearly a
mile before being overtaken by a boat and killed. Mr. Harting in his article
on the F o x 2 gives two interesting instances of Fox cunning in. the presence
of danger. ‘ In the Vine Country,’ he says (p. 327), ‘ a Fox was accustomed
to run the same line time after time, and eluded the hounds by jumping first
on the. top of a pleached fence, thence to a wall, and thence to the roof of
an uninhabited cottage, by the chimney of which he lay down out of sight.
One of the most curious devices for self-preservation was shown by a Fox
in the Fitzwilliam country. This Fox, after changing his direction several
times and vainly seeking shelter in a bed of rushes, made straight for the
railway, and lay down in the permanent way. The rapid approach of a train
necessitated the withdrawal of the hounds, but the Fox maintained his position
until the train was dose to him, when he got up and made good his
escape. Unless he was in a manner conscious of the fact that the huntsman’s
prudence would not allow the hounds to remain on the line, it is difficult to
understand what could have prompted him to remain in a position not unattended
with danger.’ 8
Endless are the curious places in which the Fox has taken refuge as a last
resource; on one of the few occasions on which I have enjoyed Fox-hunting,
1 ‘Where the Fox fails,’ says the editor of the County Gentleman (Daily Mail, January 28, 1904), ‘ in his cunning is
generally in his want of originality. There was one old depredator whose raids upon the local poultry had gained him
unenviable notoriety. He was always found in the same covert, always gave the same run, and was invariably lost at a park
wall some three miles away. Casts were made to right and left, “ furrard” and back—always without avail. At last his
stratagem was found out. Some one stationed near the spot saw him jump on the wall, run along it for a distance of at
least a hundred and fifty yards, then spring on to the overhanging branch of a tree, and disappear down the hollow trunk.
But he played the trick once too often! By the way, in the Duke of Beaufort’s country, and that of Lord Fitzhardinge
as well, I believe, some of the Foxes are noted for their arboreal proclivities. Many a good run this season has begun
with the dislodgment of a Fox from his lofty perch, though I have not heard of anyone finding four Foxes in trees in
one day of late, such as once happened in the Badminton country. Arboreal Foxes, of course, are by no means
confined to the West of England. I have heard of three being found in one tree in Mr. Femie’s country, “ squatting
like monkeys in the thicker branches,” and in the Meynell Hunt a woodman who once climbed up a spruce fir tree is
said to have found a Fox in a sort of “ den,” so pleached and interwoven with branches as to make a capital place
for him to eat and sleep in unmolested. Needless to add, the hounds had drawn that cover blank several times during
the season ! ’
2 Zoologist, September 189T.
3 Field, January 2, 1886.