When urged by hunger, he will also eat roots or insects; and the foxes near the coasts will devour crabs, shrimps, or shell-fish. In France and Italy they do incredible mischief, by feeding on grapes, of which they are excessively fond.
We are told by Buffon, that he sometimes attacks bee-hives, and the nests of wasps, for the sake of what he can find to eat: and that he frequently meets with so rough a reception, as to force him to retire, that he may roll on the ground and crush those that are stinging him; but having thus rid himself of his troublesome companions, he instantly returns to the charge, and obliges them at length to forsake their combs, and leave them as a reward of his victory. When pressed by necessity he will devour carrion. “I once,” says M. Buffon, “suspended on a tree, at the height of nine feet, some meat, bread, and bones. The foxes had been at severe exercise during the night; for next morning the earth all round was beaten, by their jumping, as smooth as a barn-floor.”
The fox exhibits a great degree of cunning in digging young rabbits out of their burrows. He does not enter the hole, for in that case he would have to dig several feet along the ground, under the surface of the earth; but he follows their scent above, till he comes to the end, where they lay, and then scratching up the earth, descends immediately upon, and devours them.
Pontoppidan informs us, that when the fox observes an otter go into the water to fish, he will frequently hide himself behind a stone, and when the otter comes to shore with his prey, he will make such a spring upon him, that the affrighted animal runs off, and leaves his booty behind. A certain person, continues this writer, was surprised on seeing a fox near a fisherman’s house, laying a parcel of storks’ heads in a row: he waited the event; the fox hid himself behind them, and made a booty of the first crow that came for a bit of them.
The fox prepares for himself a convenient den, in which he lies concealed during the greater part of the day.
This is so contrived, as to afford the best possible security to the inhabitant, being situated under hard ground, the roots of trees, &c. and is besides furnished with proper outlets, through which he may escape in case of necessity. This care and dexterity in constructing for himself a habitation, is, by M. Buffon, considered as alone sufficient to rank the fox among the higher order of quadrupeds, since it implies no small degree of intelligence.
The fox, (says he,) knows how to ensure his safety, by providing himself with an asylum to which he retires from pressing dangers, where he dwells, and where he brings up his young. He is not a vagabond, but lives settled in a domestic state. This difference, though it appears even among men, has greater effects, and supposes more powerful causes, among the inferior animals. The single idea of a habitation, or settled place of abode, the art of making it commodious, and concealing the avenues to it, imply a superior degree of sentiment.
He is one of those animals that, in this country, are made objects of diversion in the chase. When he finds himself pursued, he generally makes towards his hole, and penetrating to the bottom, lies till a terrier is sent in to him. If his den is under a rock, or the roots of trees, which is often the case, he is safe, for the terrier is no match for him there; and he cannot be dug out by his enemies. When the retreat to his kennel is cut off, his stratagems and shifts to escape are as surprising as they are various. He always takes to the most woody parts of the country, and prefers the paths that are most embarrassed with thorns and briers. He runs in a direct line before the hounds, and at no great distance from them; and, if hard pushed, seeks the low wet grounds, as if conscious that the scent does not lie so well there. When overtaken, he becomes obstinately desperate, and bravely defends himself against the teeth of his adversaries, even to the last gasp.
Dr. Goldsmith relates a remarkable instance of the parental affection of this animal, which, he says, occurred near Chelmsford:—“A she fox that had, as it should seem, but one cub, was unkennelled by a gentleman’s hounds, and hotly pursued. The poor animal, braving every danger rather than leave her cub behind to be worried by the dogs, took it up in her mouth, and ran with it in this manner for several miles. At last, taking her way through a farmer’s yard, she was assaulted by a mastiff, and at length obliged to drop her cub; this was taken up by the farmer.” And we are happy to add that the affectionate creature escaped the pursuit, and got off in safety.
Of all animals the fox has the most significant eye, by which is expressed every passion of love, fear, hatred, &c. He is remarkably playful, but, like all savage creatures half reclaimed, will on the least offence bite even those with whom he is most familiar.