Master Reynard: The History of a Fox

by Jane Fielding; J. C. Tregarthen

Although I had taken a short cut over the treacherous morass to forestall the duck, I feared that they might have settled in the water before I reached my ambush, and it was with eager eyes that I scanned the surface from a clump of rushes on a finger of land that jutted a little way into the pool. All was well! Not a bird floated on the open water between the beds of lilies or in the lanes between the floating grasses. The only things that caught my eye were a moorhen and the trail of light she left behind her as she swam the gloomy water, which was shadowed by some alders.

Crossing the baked and cracked mud left exposed by the sunken pool, I entered the water, swam over to the islet, and secreted myself on the margin of a tiny creek just above a line of stranded feathers. There, screened from the keen eyes of flighting wild-fowl, I began my vigil with all the hope that waits on inexperience. Crouching beneath my ambush, I heard a few distant cries, which came, I should think, from birds feeding on the edge of the tide. So faint were they as to be audible only when the fitful breeze lulled and the tall, feathery reeds about the pool ceased rustling.

Presently, from the water between two lily-beds a silvery fish jumped thrice in quick succession, as if pursued by some invisible foe; of the latter I saw no sign, unless its presence was indicated by a swirl in the water near where the fish fell. The long silence which followed was broken at last by a swish of wings—an inspiriting sound after the tedious wait—and some wild-fowl wheeled in a wide circle above my head before settling on one of the many pools that glistened on the wide marshland below them. As I lost the sound, I feared that the birds had dropped in elsewhere, but round they came again, and, with a splash that made me tingle with excitement, a mallard and three ducks alighted on the water midway between the islet and the reeds. They were evidently ill at ease, though they seemed to me so secure that I could not imagine what they could be so suspicious of—certainly not of the peregrine that harassed them at sunrise; and at the time I knew nothing of the monster pike that tenanted the pool, and took toll of feather as well as of fin. Could it be that they had got some inkling of my presence? I crouched absolutely motionless whilst their restless eyes searched the tangle on the island, and when they stared at the patch where I was hiding I scarcely dared to breathe.

Before settling down to feed they cruised restlessly up and down, and even whilst they gobbled the green weed they kept looking so persistently my way that I began to think they could scent me, though they had only bills for noses. I had marked the mallard for my prey. He was a plump bird, and I had to keep my tongue from licking my lips at the prospect of the feast; for he was very tempting to an appetitie sated of rabbit, and by this time I knew every feather of the plumage that covered his juicy flesh. Just then it vexed me to hear the vixen's call, far off though it was, as I feared she might hit my trail, follow it, and spoil my hunting. Her yapping caused all four birds to raise their heads and listen, but they showed no further sign of alarm, as every creature of the wild knows that dead silence precedes the kill and that it need have no dread of a noisy fox.

The ducks were near enough now for me to see the least movement of the mallard's eyes, the white of which, even when his head was down, showed that he was in deadly fear of something. "Fool!" thought I, "eat your supper in peace; but when you land on the mud of the creek, where lie yesternight's imprints of your webbed feet, then look about you."

"HIS BEADY EYES GLEAMED."

And yet I was mistaken; at that instant an enemy was within a few yards of him. I had warning of its approach, for I saw the moonlight catch a heave of the water, just as from the cliff I had seen it catch the glassy surface of the curling wave; but in my inexperience I never dreamt that the glint could be caused by a rival for the bird. I was now to learn better, as with a great flapping of wings and a loud quack the mallard disappeared below the surface. I remember nothing about the three ducks for I nearly jumped out of my skin; and my stupefaction was complete when I saw a big animal appear at the surface and leave the water with the mallard in his mouth.

The sight of this brute with my bird enraged me so much that at first I was on the point of springing across the creek and taking it from him. I would have done so had he been only half his size, but I was afraid of the strong, queer-looking creature. His body was very long, his legs short but massive, and his tail, which tapered to a point, stretched across the mud and just touched the water. He had no ears—at least, nothing worth the name; his eyes were small, his whiskers very long and white, and his jaws so heavy that they frightened me. How he enjoyed the mallard, the rascal! How his beady eyes gleamed until he saw me back out of my ambush; and then what an evil look rose to them! That was enough to scare me without the frightful grimace and hissing that accompanied it.

I lost no time in getting out of sight of such a horror. I crossed the pool, dreading at every stroke that the fearsome beast would seize me from beneath, as he had seized the mallard, pull me under, and—disgusting thought!—perhaps eat me. I looked back on landing, and again when I reached the reeds; then, as I saw no trace of him and had dry land in front, I cursed him to my heart's content. I had been deprived of my supper in the last watch of the night, and it would take me all my time to reach the earth before dawn, even by way of the quaking bog. I gnashed my strong teeth as I hurried across the fen, swearing that I would be avenged on that thief if chance threw me in his way again; and though a fox may not be able to choose place and time, he generally gets his wrongs righted in the end. I own that for the moment the sight of the strong, fierce brute must have unnerved me; why else should the rustling of a vole on the bank of our own stream scare me so and cause me to run home in breathless haste?