If forced to go to ground in a spot not of his own choosing, a hill fox will sometimes squeeze himself tight into a narrow crevice of the rock where he is unable to distribute punishment to the terriers, but is forced to take and endure it from them. As a rule, however, Reynard takes good care to make his stand where he commands the upper position, the terriers having to go up to him face to face. When this happens, the dog often gets badly marked, until another terrier can get behind the fox and force him to change his ground. When run to ground even in a big earth, a hunted fox sometimes elects to bolt very quickly. I remember on one occasion watching a fox enter a very strong earth, and before hounds could get to the spot, it bolted, went to ground again a few yards further on, and finally bolted and made straight away, to afford a good hunt.
A sure sign that a fox in a rocky earth is shifting his position underground, and may show himself, is when the terriers cease barking, and hounds begin to rush about the “Borran.” A fox has an uncanny knack of escaping from hounds, even if they are practically all round him. In rough ground, particularly, he is an adept at making his getaway.
In long heather a fox will often lie very close indeed, until hounds hunt right up to him. Then when you see the members of the pack jumping above the heather, as if expecting to view their quarry, you can look out, for he is sure to be lying hidden somewhere close to you. He will do the same on the ledge of a crag if he thinks he can escape notice, but, as a rule, he is not long in leaving his retreat. I remember on one occasion seeing a fox curled up on a ledge quite bare of cover, in a crag overlooking the Deepdale valley. Hounds were questing for a drag far below. I was talking to another man at the time, yet that fox lay there and never stirred even an ear. Finally, I threw a stone at it, which bounced off the rock above it, making considerable noise. Still that fox lay on, as if deaf and blind. The next stone, however, was better aimed, and it rolled a few feet right on top of the fox. That woke him up, and he tarried not on his going. He must either have been asleep, or could not have heard or winded us. There was a stiffish breeze at the time, which may have had something to do with it.
I have only once seen a breeding earth actually in a crag. The vixen had chosen for her retreat a crevice in the face of the rock; the ascent to which was by no means easy. That the cubs had been well fed there was abundant evidence in the shape of pheasants’ tail feathers, bones, etc. These birds had been caught and killed in the dale below, and had been carried by the vixen for a considerable distance. Dog-foxes fight amongst themselves; these battles no doubt taking place in spring, when they travel long distances to visit the vixen of their choice. I have in my possession the mask of a big dog-fox—he weighed over seventeen pounds—with half the left ear gone, doubtless the result of a fight.
At his own pace a hill fox can go for ever, and it is when scent is rather permanent than strong that extra long runs take place. Even on the roughest fells there is always some ground where hounds can press their fox, and so by degrees get on good terms with him. It is the pace which kills, in addition to the superior condition of the hounds. If a fox has gorged himself overnight, and hounds find him early in the morning, he is not in condition to show them a clean pair of heels, for he cannot, like a heron, lighten himself by throwing up his food. The consequence is, if hounds get away on anything like good terms, they burst him in a very short time. On the other hand, if he has come from a long distance in search of a vixen, he is not likely to have let hunger draw him away from love-making, so should he be forced to run for his life he can do it on an empty stomach, and his course is likely to be in a bee-line back to his own country. Then, if scent is good, the pace will be a cracker, and many miles will be covered, ere he is rolled over or run to ground. It is in spring that most of the longest runs take place, when the dog-foxes are on love-making bent.
The pace of a fox is very deceptive. He moves with a gliding action that carries him swiftly over the ground. One minute he is here, the next he is far away, and you wonder how the dickens he did it. Not long ago a hunted fox passed me on a road, so close I could have touched him with a stick. I stood stock still when I saw him coming, and he took not the slightest notice of me. His mouth was slightly open, his black-tipped ears flattened close to his head, and he carried his brush straight and stiff as a poker behind him. I could plainly hear his panting, and the sound of his pads on the hard surface of the road. He did not appear to be travelling fast, so smooth was his action, but he passed me like a flash, and was very soon out of sight.
The fell fox does not get his first experience of being hunted until later in the year than the date set for cub-hunting in the Shires. Somewhere about the first or second week in October he will be roused some morning by the sound of the horn, and the music of the pack. It will be lucky for him if scent is only moderate, for in all probability he knows little country beyond the particular mountain where he was bred. If he survives the day he will begin to think his old quarters are not so very safe after all, and by degrees he will lengthen his journeys until he becomes familiar with a much wider area of country. Next time hounds come he may lead them a merry dance, and if luck is once more with him, he will have gained still greater confidence in his powers and knowledge of his beat.
That certain foxes manage to live to a great age there is ample evidence in the shape of old and almost toothless customers brought to hand. It is a matter for surprise that nearly all these old things are fat and in good condition. Probably as age weakens their powers they make up for it in cunning, and so manage to still secure an adequate food supply. Like human beings, very old foxes show a good deal of grey about the head, giving them a grizzled, worn appearance.
Although the hill fox does most of his wandering abroad at night, he may occasionally be seen in daylight. Not long since a fox walked almost the entire length of the Troutbeck valley, near Windermere, despite the fact that he was loudly halloed at by several people en route. One may travel the fells for years without setting eyes on a fox except when hounds are out, despite the ample stock of foxes which now inhabit the mountains.
During the last ten years I have not seen more than half a dozen foxes when I have been wandering about the hills, though, curiously enough, I saw one on three successive evenings not long ago, in all probability the same fox on each occasion. This fox was coming down off the hill en route to the low ground, at about the same time each evening. Of course, if you are shooting on the high ground, or walking with a shepherd whose dogs are running about the fell, you may often chance to disturb a fox. I refer, of course, to old foxes, not cubs, which latter are often to be seen in the vicinity of their earths.