Foxes are prone to walk convenient logs investigating anything that attracts them, and rarely look for danger under foot if the trap has been well placed and cleverly hidden. We smoked our traps and handled them with mittens.
The red fox is the only species that abounds in this locality, says Wm. Muchon, of Minnesota. When run by the hounds he usually keeps half a mile ahead, regulating his speed by that of the hounds, occasionally pausing a moment to divert himself with a mouse or to contemplate the landscape or to listen for his pursuer.
A most spirited and exciting chase occurs when the dogs gets close upon one in the open field. The fox relies so confidently upon his superior speed that I imagine he half tempts the dog to the race, but if he be a smart dog, and their course lies down hill over smooth ground, Reynard must put his best foot forward and then sometimes suffers the ignominy of being run over by his pursuer, who, however, is quite unable to pick him up, owing to the speed. But uphill and in the woods the superior nimbleness and agility of the fox tells at once.
Carry the carcass of a pig or a fowl to a distant field in mid-winter, and in a few nights his tracks cover the snow about it. The inexperienced youth, misled by this seeming carelessness of Reynard, suddenly conceives a project to enrich himself with fur, and wonders why the idea has not occurred to him before and to others. I knew a youthful yeoman of this kind who imagined he had found a mine of wealth discovering on a remote side hill between two woods a dead porker, upon which it appeared all the foxes of the neighborhood did nightly banquet.
The clouds were burdened with snow and as the first flakes began to eddy down he set out, trap and broom in hand, already counting over in imagination the silver quarters he would receive for the first fox skin. With the utmost care and with a palpitating heart he removed enough of the trodden snow to allow the trap to sink below the surface. The next morning at dawn he was on his way to bring his fur. The snow had done its work effectually, and he believed had kept his secret well.
Approaching nearer, the surface was unbroken, and doubt usurped the place of certainty in his mind. A slight wound marked the side of the porker, but there was no footprint near it. Looking up the hill, he saw where Reynard had walked leisurely down toward his wanted bacon till within a few yards when he had wheeled, and with prodigious strides disappeared in the woods. The stream of silver quarters suddenly set in another direction.
The successful trapper commences in the fall, or before the first deep snow. In a field not too remote with an old axe he cuts a small place, say ten inches by fourteen in the frozen ground, and removes the earth to the depth of three or four inches, then fills the cavity with dry ashes in which are placed bits of roasted cheese. Reynard is very suspicious and gives the place a wide berth, but the cheese is savory and the cold severe. He ventures a little closer every night until he can reach and pick out a piece from the ashes, and finding a fresh supply of the delectable morsels every night is soon thrown off his guard and his suspicions lulled.
After a week of baiting in this way, the trapper carefully conceals his trap in the bed, first smoking it thoroughly with hemlock boughs so as to kill all smell of iron. If the weather favors, and the proper precautions have been taken he may succeed, though the chances are still greatly against him.