tive family, and took
up his abode among the hazels and the hawthorns in a thick-set hedge
bounding the woods.

In preparing the "breeding earth," Vulp and the vixen observed the
utmost care in order that its whereabouts should not be discovered. The
chosen site was a shallow depression, scratched in the soil by a
fickle-minded rabbit that had ultimately fixed on another spot for her
abiding place. This depression was enlarged; a long tunnel was
excavated as far as the roots of an oak, and there broadened. Then
another long tunnel was hollowed out towards the surface, where it
opened in the middle of a briar-brake. The foxes worked systematically,
digging away the soil with their fore-paws, loosening an occasional
stubborn stone or root with their teeth, and thrusting the rubbish
behind them with their powerful hind-legs. As it accumulated, they
turned and pushed it towards the mouth of the den, where at last a
fair-sized mound was formed. When the burrow had been opened into the
thicket, the crafty creatures securely "stopped" the original entrance,
so that, when the grass sprouted and the briar sprays lengthened in the
woodlands, the "earth" would escape all notice, unless a prying visitor
penetrated the thicket and discovered the second opening--then, of
course, the only one--leading to the den.

When summer came, and the undergrowth renewed its foliage, and the grass
and the corn grew so tall and thick that Vulp could roam unseen through
the fields, he left his haunts amid the woodlands at the first peep of
dawn, and as long as daylight lasted lay quiet in a snug retreat amid
the gorse. There all was silent; no patter of summer rain from leaves
far overhead, no rustle of summer wind through laden boughs, prevented
him hearing the approach of a soft-footed enemy; no harsh, mocking cry
of jay or magpie, bent on betraying his whereabouts, gave him cause for
uneasiness and fear. Of all wild creatures in the fields and woods, he
detested most the meddlesome jay and magpie. If he but ventured by day
to cross an open spot, one of these birds would surely detect and follow
him, hopping from branch to branch, or swooping with ungainly flight
almost on his head, meanwhile hurling at him a thousand abuses. Unless
he quickly regained his refuge in the gorse, the blackbirds and the
thrushes would join in the tantalising mockery, till it seemed that the
whole countryside was aroused by the cry of "Fox! fox!" After such an
adven