Joseph Wharton Lippincott

“ As fast as man thinks out new methods of destruction, the fox finds fresh tricks through which to escape. And may he ever escape! For when the edges of our old fields no longer bear the imprint of his tireless feet, when the woodlands that delighted his wild little heart have been usurped by the tame dog and the tame cat, then indeed will have departed half their charm, half the thrill of winter walks. ”

“ Red Ben was exceedingly interested in this, so interested that he did not note how carefully the boy walked around Blackie’s pen, looking at the tracks in the snow, nor how long a time he spent fixing something in the pen. Red Ben, indeed, had not yet learned that snow holds footprints and tells the story of the night travels of every creature that touches it. How, therefore, could he guess that everything about his visit was plain to this wide awake boy, who, thrilled by the idea of a big, wild fox being near, was plotting to catch him? ”

“ It warmed the air and melted the top of the snow so that it would pack under the feet of the small woods creatures. The squirrels came out of their holes in the hollow oaks and rushed to the nearest places in which they remembered having hidden nuts. Crows cawed and walked along the edges of the streams where the water had melted the snow. Wherever tall weeds grew, there was great feasting. Flocks of little juncos and chickadees were picking the seeds out of the dry tops.
The sour old mink slipped out of the brush pile, gave Red Ben a last wicked look, then went bounding away. ”

“ When hunter grimly hunts hunter in the woods, it is indeed a time of starvation. Not for years had there been such a snow in the Pine Barrens. Red Ben longed for the country he had learned to know so well, the Ridge, Cranberry Swamp and the edge of Ben Slown’s farm lands. There he would know just where to dig for mice under the snow, or to hunt for frozen apples. ”

“ The fox’s keen nose picked out the odor of perspiring horses, of sheep and of pigs. It caught, too, the peculiar smell of man and the smell of smoke and cooked food and slops, which always is found where man lives. There was also a dull, nameless scent made up of a hundred different things, like the grease on wagon axles, old harness, rusting iron, clothes out to dry and other things about which Red Ben knew nothing. ”

“ The farmer had moved away, disgusted with the place and with his neighbors. His poison baits and traps, set for Red Ben, his big brute of a hound, all had gotten him into trouble with the villagers. The foxes had won, Ben Slown had to move.
The man who bought the farm had no use for a gun. He let the fence rows grow up with weeds and berries for the birds, so that his corn and fruit would not be disturbed by them. He let the woodchucks and the children of Bun feed at will in his meadows, and grow so plentiful that no fox would ever need a chicken for a meal. ”

“ Just as the sun rose they crossed the log over Goose Creek, trotted up the old woods path and looked from the Ridge over Ben Slown’s broad fields, lying so peacefully under the morning mist. Jim Crow’s “caw—caw—caw,”—all’s well—echoed through the woods quite in the old way. White Stripe, too, was lumbering along the path just as he had when Red Ben first saw him and nearly got into trouble. Bun, the big farm rabbit, passed ahead of the old skunk, and far down the Ridge, Red Ben saw a possum cautiously shuffling along. ”

“ Just as he had once watched Ben Slown from the mouth of the burrow, he now peeped between the limbs of the old tree to see the lanky black and white creature with the flapping ears come roaring up the trail.
Behind the hound came Farmer Slown’s woolly dog Shep and a white fox terrier. Their noses were not keen enough for trailing, so they encouraged the hound to do the work while they enjoyed the fun of it. Red Ben had seen them before; they usually accompanied the farmer in his walks. ”

“ She did not know that, though her own graceful body fitted into the woods like an illusive shadow, the white hen stood out like a beacon light. She did not know that on the Ridge it caught the eye of a friend of Ben Slown and held it while she circled the den and then called out the puppies to the feast. Her mother love had indeed overcome natural caution.
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The den was nothing more than the enlarged burrow of an old woodchuck, who, years before, had been driven from the fields below. To the four puppies, however, it was all that a home ought to be. ”

“ Through the swamp flowed a little creek in whose deep eddies green waterweeds swung with the current, giving glimpses now and then of turtles and slender, watchful pike.
When Ben Slown first planned to come to the Pine Barrens, his friends gloomily shook their heads.
“The foxes and other varmints will drive you out,” they warned. “You won’t be able to raise a chicken. The coons and crows will eat your corn. The woodchucks will destroy your vegetables. There are critters enough in the Barrens to keep you from being lonely, but they won’t be the kind of neighbors you want.” ”

“ The heavy pup was almost more than the old fox could carry; but somehow she dragged him out of the hole and leaped for the bushes, pulling him along by the loose skin at the back of his neck. The sudden shouts from the surprised men only served to spur her on, not, as they hoped, to make her drop her burden.
She knew the farmer had a gun. Bang! She was not hurt! The bullet only tore up the ground behind her. Bang! Another shot whizzed past. And then her jaws slipped on the pup’s neck and she dropped him. ”

“ STUDYING THE ENEMY
When Red Ben was trotting back to the Swamp, he heard Farmer Slown’s hound baying. He stopped at once to listen. It was not the joy cry that comes with the scent of a fresh trail; there was, indeed, a wail at the end that puzzled him. He listened a while in silence, then, pointing his sharp nose in that direction, barked back his defiance. “Yap, yap, ya-rrrrr.” After a pause he barked again.
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The hound, who was tied in the barnyard and howling simply because he felt lonely, heard the fox and at once grew quiet. Farmer Slown heard him too, through his open window. ”

“ Farmer Slown did not look for feathers on the nose of the big cat. He never found out that the sight of the guinea running about in the dark was too much for the hunter instinct of his pet. Instead, he remembered only the barking of the fox in the night, and shook his fist in the direction of the Ridge. ”

“ The friend of the fox fears the fox’s enemy; the trapper fears a competitor; and so the wily creature weaves his trail endlessly about the country side, unwatched except by the very few “who know.”
Imagination must play a part in making the story of a wild animal complete, especially that of such an intensely shy and crafty creature as a fox; but nothing is included here which does not fall within the actual powers of the swift and wily red fox of today. Indeed there are numbers of them very much like Red Ben. ”

“ He did not know that while he led the hound into the Barrens beyond the Swamp, the tired mother had started after him along the path where crouched the waiting, sinister figure of the farmer. He only knew that she had gone, leaving him—the fatherless, brotherless, playmateless little fox pup of Oak Ridge—alone. ”

“ Red Ben had only to listen to the coming hound to know. In her own hilly country beyond the river, the mother could have dodged the dogs and lost them among the rocks, but on this luckless morning in the flat Barrens, when there was no wind, and when the damp ground held the scent no matter how she broke and twisted the trail, they could not be shaken off. ”

“ By this time Red Ben knew most of the wood creatures, and they knew him. Ringtail, Possum, White Stripe and Screech Owl were hunters; like himself they preferred meat to grass, fruit, roots and nuts. Although each had a scent entirely his own, each also had the “hunter” smell, quite different from the meadow mice, who lived on seeds and grass, or from Red Squirrel, who ate nuts, mushrooms and buds. Quite different too from the deer and from Bun, the big rabbit who lived near one of the farm gardens and enjoyed parsnips, string beans and other vegetables, whenever the clover was scarce. ”

“ With a young fox, or with any young animal, there is usually a mother. The annoying little nut eater had one glimpse of a red streak flinging itself at him from behind, then in a fright he lost his footing on the low limb, fell into the bushes, and had to run with all his might to get up the next tree without being punished. ”

“ He walked around the other, eyeing him sharply, but giving him every chance to attack if he wanted to. The gray was fooled. With a snarl he leaped at the apparently stupid red, only to be met by a blaze of teeth. The fight was over in a moment. The gray did not stop running until he had the big sand dunes between him and that red whirlwind.
Red Ben found crabs, fish, snails and clams washed up on the beach. He had never seen so much food. Some he ate, and some he carried to the dunes and buried for future use. He did not know that a new supply was washed in by every tide. ”

“ Every fox is likely sooner or later to do something foolish that gets him into trouble, but Red Ben’s wonderful luck seemed unending. He was often seen when running ahead of the dogs. Perhaps some old farmer would be driving home his cows, when into the country road ahead would plunge the fox, his bright fur and big, bushy tail leaving no doubt as to his identity. ”

“ Red Ben, in his excitement, leaped out on a bar of sand where he could see the chase more easily. Screech Owl, too, having caught a glimpse from a distant cedar, flew to a limb over the stream. All the creatures within that angle of the creek except poor old Muskrat seemed to know that something was going to happen. Even the bats flitted about without their usual dips and rushes after low flying bugs. ”

“ Here four little fox pups were born—Red Ben’s children. They looked like him, and like him they were strong and wise and merry. With their parents keeping guard on the top of the old wall, they could play all through the long days. Many were the romps they had together, but none so exciting as those in which Red Ben joined; then all four would pile on top of him and bury their little noses in his soft fur trying to hold him down ”

“ The gray bully was bent on revenge this time; he would teach the red upstart a thing or two! But just as they neared the log that crossed Goose Creek, the bay of a hound floated through the woods from straight ahead. Red Ben dashed across the log, but Gray Fox hung back and finally sneaked away to hide. And so it happened that when the black and white hound, Shep and the fox terrier crossed the log on Red Ben’s trail from the Ridge, they found the fresh, straight-away track of Gray Fox, and followed it. ”

“ On the damp ground the woods creatures could jump about without a rustle. That is what they like to do. The mice wait at the entrance of their homes until the way seems safe, then dash to the nearest bush and hide. If they see no owl or other hunter they make a dash to the next bush and so on until they safely reach the feeding ground. A rustle would catch the attention of any waiting owl and bring him swooping down.
Red Ben saw deer mice watching inquisitively from the edges of laurel clumps, also little burrowing pine mice whose sharp eyes fairly twinkled in the moonlight. ”

“ When people good naturedly teased Ben Slown, who never could enjoy a joke on himself, he grew more and more surly. He soon saw that, until he caught the foxes, he would always be plagued, especially when someone lost a chicken. So he began to scheme and set more traps. He had always hated foxes, but never more bitterly than now.
With little suspicion of this, the mother was teaching Red Ben the tricks that every wise fox must know. Night after night they hunted mice together, or lay in wait for fat muskrats in the swamp, or chased big Bun or the other cottontail rabbits. ”

“ The whole ranch was enclosed with the strong wire which had kept out the dogs. Inside this fence were the pens, each holding a pair of the wonderful silver black foxes. A shed ran along their northern side, giving protection against rain and the coldest winds.
Red Ben moved stealthily between the snow laden spruce boughs, climbed the outside fence with the ease of a cat, and approached the first pen. Here stood watching him a beautiful fox, jet black to the tip of her tail, which was pure white. Blackie seemed mightily interested in Red Ben. ”

“ Forgetting brotherly love and fear of the fox pup, they then flew at each other in a fury and had a good fight. At last, exhausted, they sat on their tails and held hands while hissing defiance at each other in a comical way.
Red Ben was very much interested in the strange pair, and made a practice of taking a look at them every night. The devoted old mother fed them regularly, often leaving beside them several more mice than their stomachs had room for. ”

“ The mole, living entirely in his narrow burrows under the ground, has no need for eyes and so has lost the use of those nature first gave him; the shrew, living partly above the ground but mostly in burrows, needs to see a little, and so has very small eyes; the active deer mouse which scorns burrowing and usually lives in hollow trees like the squirrels, needs sharp eyes and so has immense ones.
To protect his big eyes from twigs and briars in the dark, Deer Mouse has a regular fence of whiskers, while Shrew’s little eyes only need a few small whiskers and old Mole needs no whiskers at all. ”

“ The Fox of Oak Ridge CHAPTER I
THE COMING OF THE RED FOX
In the state of New Jersey there are still thousands of acres of low-lying woodlands, called pine barrens, where man has done little except chop down a few trees. Slowly but surely, however, the farmers are each year pushing their clearings deeper into this section, gradually overcoming the last barriers which Nature sets up to protect her own. ”

“ Red Ben and his mate did not stop there; they were hunting something very important, a snug, safe den. They found just what they wanted in a tumbled down old mill on Goose Creek. Parts of the walls still stood, but enough big stones had fallen to make a great pile of rock, under which a burrow was run without much digging. On the top of one of the walls they could lie in the pleasant sun and look down at the water rushing by, and at the fish coming up the creek to spawn in the shallows, where the young ones, when they hatched, would be safe. ”