enough to eat that there is no time for play--they
seldom do more than take a gallop together, with a playful jump or
two, before going their separate ways. At all times, however, they
have a strong tendency to fun and mischief-making. More than once, in
winter, I have surprised a fox flying round after his own bushy tail
so rapidly that tail and fox together looked like a great yellow
pin-wheel on the snow.

When a fox meets a toad or frog, and is not hungry, he worries the
poor thing for an hour at a time; and when he finds a turtle he turns
the creature over with his paw, sitting down gravely to watch its
awkward struggle to get back onto its feet. At such times he has a
most humorous expression, brows wrinkled and tongue out, as if he were
enjoying himself hugely.

Later in the season he would be glad enough to make a meal of toad or
turtle. One day last March the sun shone out bright and warm; in the
afternoon the first frogs began to tune up, _cr-r-r-runk,
cr-r-runk-a-runk-runk_, like a flock of brant in the distance. I was
watching them at a marshy spot in the woods, where they had come out
of the mud by dozens into a bit of open water, when the bushes parted
cautiously and the sharp nose of a fox appeared. The hungry fellow had
heard them from the hill above, where he was asleep, and had come down
to see if he could catch a few. He was creeping out onto the ice when
he smelled me, and trotted back into the woods.

Once I saw him catch a frog. He crept down to where Chigwooltz, a fat
green bullfrog, was sunning himself by a lily pad, and very cautiously
stretched out one paw under water. Then with a quick fling he tossed
his game to land, and was after him like a flash before he could
scramble back.

On the seacoast Reynard depends largely on the tides for a living. An
old fisherman assures me that he has seen him catching crabs there in
a very novel way. Finding a quiet bit of water where the crabs are
swimming about, he trails his brush over the surface till one rises
and seizes it with his claw (a most natural thing for a crab to do),
whereupon the fox springs away, jerking the crab to land. Though a fox
ordinarily is careful as a cat about wetting his tail or feet, I shall
not be surprised to find some day for myself that the fisherman was
right. Reynard is very ingenious, and never lets his little prejudices
stand in the way when he is after a dinner.

His way of beguiling a duck is more remarkable tha