Early the next evening Reynard gave a series of strange barks. This was an invitation to his home. The foxes came from every direction and met at the foot of an old oak.
Reynard's den was under this oak. He sat upon his haunches near the door to welcome his guests as they came, but he did not move.
"You all know, friends, why I do not rise to welcome you," he said. "I have been very sick, and if I move about it gives me a very bad headache."
Reynard asked his friends, who were standing around him, what they had been doing for the last week or so. They told many interesting stories of how they had escaped from traps and dogs and men.
A pile of chickens, turkeys, and ducks lay in sight not far away. As they talked, their eyes often wandered to these.
It grew late. The company became a little restless. At last Reynard said:
"Now, friends, before we take our evening meal, I have something to say for the good of all of us.
"I have been lying awake nights thinking what we could do to free ourselves from the weight of our heavy tails. Spring is here with its rainy weather. You all know how wet and muddy our tails become. Often I have had to give up a first-class meal and trot off home, hungry, to stay until my tail had dried. You have had to do the same. Many a poor fox has lost his life because of his long tail.
"Now, what do you say to having our tails cut off? Think what free lives we shall then lead. I will cut them off if you wish. The cutting will be almost painless, I am sure. Now let us have them off in a hurry before supper. After our feast, we shall have a great dance."
His visitors were silent for a moment. Some nodded their heads, showing that they were ready to part with their tails.