Master Reynard: The History of a Fox

by Jane Fielding; J. C. Tregarthen

Satisfied that the coast was clear, I made my way down the hill by a path my pads had laid—for I was on my trail leading to the dunes—and, keeping to the shelter of a hedge of blackthorns, reached the wall under the elms. Over it I crawled to the lower yard where the big pool is. Its muddy edge was white with stranded feathers, and so was the track leading past the mowhay, where rats were rustling in the straw. But I left them behind, and with stealthy stride reached the scene of action. A cock, unsuspicious of my presence, crowed in the first house I came to, but the door was a new one, and a weasel could not have got under it; so I passed in disgust to the next shed, which contained the turkeys. But if the hen-house was effectually closed, the turkey-house was hermetically sealed, and I thought that the farmer must be a cruel brute not to give the poor birds better ventilation.

"They would be but dry eating, even if I could get them," said I, as I crossed the deeply-rutted road to the big house where my nose told me the geese were shut up. This building boasted a tall chimney, which made it look quite lofty; but it was on a small hole in the bottom of the door, from which came the goodliest of smells, that I fixed my attention, and without a moment's delay I set about enlarging it. The wood round it was very rotten, but I could not make the opening as big as I wished, on account of a piece of iron which was fastened across the door on the inside, some five or six inches above the level of the ground. Whilst I was at work the cackling inside was deafening; and when, by a furious effort, I squeezed my way in, I found myself in a veritable pandemonium. I really think that geese take their troubles more noisily than any birds in the world, except, perhaps, guinea-fowls; and I, who love quiet, would have left them severely alone if I could have got at the fowls or the turkeys. Their clumsy wings, too, can make you see stars if they catch you fairly across the eyes, as theirs caught me more than once before my work was done.

Now it is one thing to slay in hot blood, another to tell at your ease what happened. I will merely say that the lust for slaughter was strong in me, and that in a short time all the flock but one lay dead on the stone floor.

Not an instant did I waste before setting about the next step in my projected night's work, the removal of the biggest bird to the dune I had chosen for my cache. I hoped to take all—it could be done—but I would make sure of the best. My grandest victim was the gander. I had pulled him out from under two geese, and was bearing him over the bodies of the flock towards the door, when, to my horror, I saw that the hole had been stopped from the outside.

While the killing went on I had been deaf to everything, and I believe that a wagon might have passed through the yard without my noticing it. But now I became alive to every sound. I dropped the gander and listened. At first I could hear nothing but the thumping of my own heart, still affected by the speed of the kill; but presently the silence was broken by the sound of a man's footsteps on the stones at the back of the house. A few minutes later I heard the heavy tread on the roof, whereat I fell into a state of abject terror, which caused me to run round the walls like a rat in a trap.

My enemy did not remain long, and when he came down he made for the farm-house, muttering as he went. Now, thought I, is the moment to regain my freedom. Escape by the door seemed out of the question; a small paneless window through which I could see a single star was hopelessly beyond my reach; but a third outlet, the chimney, remained, and by it I might find deliverance.

Here I met with an unexpected, but not insuperable, difficulty; for a foot or so up, the flue was choked with old nests. I closed my eyes whilst I pulled them down; but the suffocating dust, which there was no draught to carry away, compelled me to return every now and again to the floor to breathe. This inconvenience, however, was a mere trifle, and after drawing a few breaths I returned to my work. It cheered me to hear the debris falling, and to know that every stroke of my fore-paws brought me nearer to my liberty. Imagine my dismay, then, on discovering, after all my toil, that a flat stone capped the chimney and prevented my escape. Though it smelt abominably, I made frantic efforts to remove it. I pawed it, I bit it, I tried to raise it with the top of my poll, with my arched back, but place myself as I might, I could not find a position that enabled me to get good purchase owing to the width of the chimney. Had it been half an inch narrower, I might have managed to dislodge the stone, heavy though it was, for I had felt it yield a little when I made my greatest effort. But there was no result from what force I could use, and seeing that I was only wasting time and strength, I scrambled down the flue to the heap of fallen rubbish, which gave way under me and spread out over the floor.

The geese lay as I had left them. It was a big kill, and no mistake. The floor was white with birds, and in places they were two deep. As became a dog-fox I had done my work well, and the birds were all dead except one, which raised its head now and again in the far corner under the window. I had not the least inclination to touch it again, and though I must have been very hungry, I did not think of eating. I was in a trap; I knew it, so did my enemy, and I knew that he knew it. That he would return at daybreak I felt sure, and that he would kill me I had little doubt. At the very thought I grovelled with fear among the bodies of my victims, until the determination to live aroused me to fresh exertions. In my desperation I tried to bite away the nails that studded the sound wood about the hole by which I had entered; I tried to dig my way under the door, but I did not succeed in dislodging a single stone. Oh for half an hour of my friend the badger! I made frantic, unavailing leaps at the open window; I cruised round and round the walls until I must have travelled miles; time after time I scrambled up the chimney, only in the end to resume my aimless rounds. At length, weary with my endeavors, continued through many hours, I lay down again, panting, amongst the geese.

The stillness of that dead-house was profound. Outside, too, all was still, save for the soughing of the wind in the leafless elms. This was the voice of an old friend, and it soothed me somewhat till it brought back to my mind the picture of the reeds bending over the rippled surface of my favorite pool. At the thought of my freedom in the fen I jumped to my feet and tried again and again, without success, each possible outlet, and then once more lay down with heaving side and lolling tongue to wait for the end.

Presently a cock crowed; and at last dawn peeped through the window, and found me a more pitiable object than the old goose who squinted at me every time she raised her blood-stained head. It would be day soon, but as yet the light was gray. It was the hour that had ofttimes surprised me in the midst of my hunting, and hurried me across the misty fen to my kennel in the brake; the hour when every carnivorous creature of the night steals by hidden ways to his retreat, and conceals himself from the cruel eye of day.