“It’s too bad,” said Mrs. Fox. “I wish the hunters would leave us alone. I must tell Sharp Eyes to be careful.”
Each night, now that he was big enough, Sharp Eyes went out with his father or mother, Twinkle or Winkle sometimes going with them, to hunt for things to eat. When they dared they went to a farm which was not far from the North Woods where they lived.
“It is easier to get a chicken or a duck than to hunt for a wild turkey or the wood mice,” said Mr. Fox. “We’ll eat at the farmyard if we can.”
And often they did, though sometimes the dogs barked when the foxes came near, or the farmer and his men would come out with guns, and the foxes would have to run away. At such times they had to hunt for something to eat in the woods. And, if they did not find it, they would go hungry. That was no fun.
One night, when the whole fox family had been out hunting and had been frightened away from the farm by barking dogs, they were all very hungry.
“I wish I had something to eat,” sighed Winkle.
“Well, we can’t have anything, so we’ll just have to wait,” said her mother.
“Where’s Sharp Eyes?” asked Mr. Fox. “Didn’t he come back with us?”
“He said he was going back to the farm, and try to get a chicken or a duck,” returned Twinkle. “He said he was terribly hungry. And so am I.”