THE BRITISH RED FOX
CHAPTER II
HAVING briefly reviewed the foxes found in other countries, we may now devote our attention to our own red rascal.
Roughly speaking, fox cubs are born towards the latter end of March. At first they are covered with mouse-coloured fur. Born blind, it is some time before the cubs open their eyes. I have seen it stated that they remain so for a period of eight days, but in my experience the time varies a good deal. I have reared cubs from the blind stage until they were nearly full grown, and some of them did not open their eyes fully until almost three weeks old. Both eyes do not invariably begin to open at once, development being slow, as in the case of polecats, stoats, and ferrets. At first the cub’s eyes are blue-grey in colour, the latter gradually changing until it assumes the amber shade of the eyes of the adult. The coat changes at the same time as the eyes, the brown colour first making its appearance about the face. The nose, which is at first flesh-coloured, gradually darkens until it becomes black. Not until in the neighbourhood of five weeks old does the cub begin to make any real use of its legs. Once it begins to walk however, its limbs rapidly strengthen, and its future bodily development is remarkably rapid. The white tip to the brush is visible in very young cubs. Both dog foxes and vixens may have it, and it is no guide to either the sex or age. I am inclined to think that the majority of white-tagged brushes are carried by dog foxes, though I have kept no records of those I have seen killed. The amount of white on the brush varies, sometimes it is barely visible, while again it may be a distinct white band, two or three inches in width.
The colour of the fox is influenced more or less by his surroundings, at any rate as far as the original strain is concerned. In John Peel’s time and before, the foxes of the Lake District were much greyer than they are now. The specimens that one sees of these “old timers” under glass cases in the various fell-side farm houses prove this. Although to-day the fell packs often kill foxes with greyish jackets, the inclination is towards a rufous shade in the majority of foxes. The fox whose coat harmonizes with his surroundings, is less noticeable in his travels abroad than one whose body covering is a contrast to the things around him. In my experience, very many of the foxes inhabiting the high fells of Cumberland and Westmorland to-day, are badly off as regards colour concealment. For instance: on April 23rd, 1920, I was returning from an expedition on the fells. Walking along a certain top, from whence I could see into the dale below, a bright yellowish-red spot caught my eye. The sun was shining at the time, and though the object was some two hundred yards below me in the breast of the hill, I could recognize it as a fox lying on a grassy ledge. To make sure however I examined it with field glasses, which left no doubt whatever as to its being a fox stretched out asleep. Had this fox been grey, it would never have attracted my attention, as I was not specially on the look out for foxes at the time. It is I feel sure, owing to the introduction of foxes into districts adjoining the fells, that the old-time grey-colour of the original mountain strain has changed.
Roughly speaking, the colour of the average English fox is reddish-yellow on the back, merging into a darker shade below. Belly, chest, and underside of legs light grey, shading into white. Pads, ear-tips, and a portion of the lower part of the legs, black. The brush is nearly always of a darker shade than the rest of the coat. The underside of the brush often shows a distinct black line from root to tip. In three brushes in my possession, this black line is very decided.
Abnormal colours occasionally crop up. White foxes are by no means uncommon, and black ones have from time to time been reported. The latter probably owe their origin to the introduction into this country of Italian or Sardinian foxes. British foxes vary considerably in size. The largest specimens come from the hill-country of Scotland, Wales, and the fells of Cumberland and Westmorland. An average good fox will measure in the neighbourhood of 4 feet over all, the brush occupying 18 inches of the total length. In “Horse and Hound” General Roger D. Williams gives the length of the American red fox as 40 inches, but this I take it applies to the smaller specimens found in Kentucky and Virginia. Although I have handled a good many foxes killed by hounds, unfortunately I have neglected to take careful measurements. Of ten fox masks beautifully mounted for me by Spicer and Sons, of Leamington, and now in my possession, I can give the following dimensions taken with a steel tape. These measurements, although perhaps not coinciding exactly with those of the living animals, will however give a fair general idea.
From between the ears to end of nose six and one eighth of an inch to six and a half inches. From between eyes to end of nose, three inches to three and three eighths of an inch. From root to tip of ear, three and a half inches and upwards. A fox has large ears, and the above measurement errs on the short side. Of brushes, those I have measured varied from thirteen inches to eighteen inches. The biggest fox does not always carry the longest brush. I have one taken from a 17½lb. fox which measures only fifteen inches, whereas the brush of an eight or nine months old cub is a good eighteen inches long.
The fur of our English fox is at its best in winter. Luckily however the skins have not been considered of much value, although at one time prices rose considerably owing to a demand for the cheaper kinds of fur.
Roughly speaking, the number of cubs to a litter is four. Much larger litters than this are however reported from time to time. The largest of which I have a record is that mentioned in “Reminiscences of a Huntsman” by the Hon. Grantley Berkeley. This litter, consisting of twelve cubs, was laid down in Wiltshire. A litter of seven cubs was taken in the Exmoor country, and other litters of eight and nine are on record. In 1910 a litter of ten cubs was reported from Germany. One of a litter that was taken in the Lake District in April, 1920, had all four of its pads pure white.
The fox arrives at maturity in from eighteen months to two years. A cub which I gave to a friend was a magnificent specimen of a dog fox in his third year. The fox may live to twelve or fourteen years, although probably very few if any reach this age. Certainly very old foxes are occasionally accounted for, toothless, grizzled customers, yet nearly always fat. Doubtless such old stagers make up in cunning for their physical deficiencies.
The menu of the fox is an exceedingly varied one, and not as some people suppose limited entirely to flesh. While hares and rabbits, rats, moles, mice, birds and frogs appeal strongly to the fox’s palate, fruit and insects, more particularly beetles, are regularly on the bill of fare. Anyone who walks far along a sheep-path or trod in hilly country, can hardly fail to discover a certain amount of foxes’ excrement. If the latter be examined in the Spring and Summer, it will often be found to consist almost entirely of wing cases and other hard portions of beetles. A species of black beetle is extraordinarily plentiful on the hills in warm weather, and the foxes are very partial to it and its kind. An occasional change of diet is no doubt quite as beneficial to a fox as to a human being, and for this reason foxes show a liking for insects and fruit. They devour frogs greedily, but I think they leave frog spawn severely alone. At any rate I have found spawn lying on hill-paths much used by foxes, and I am pretty sure that this spawn had been discarded by them, after making a meal of the frogs which they had carried to the paths to devour. In the opinion of a farmer friend, foxes devour the big black slugs so often met with, but I have no further evidence to support this statement. The fox will eat fish when he can get it, and the carcass of a dead sheep or other beast often serves him for a meal. Like a dog, he buries food for future consumption, generally leaving some portion of the tit-bit showing above the covering of earth. It makes little difference to a fox whether his food is fresh or distinctly “high.” I think it is safe to say that the vixen will not kill in the vicinity of the earth, unless compelled to do so, for fear of exposing the whereabouts of her cubs to prying eyes. Not only has she to feed herself and keep up her strength—the cubs being a great drain on her system at birth and for some time after—but both she and her mate the dog fox, have to supply the demands of their ever hungry offspring. A vixen which is ill-nourished prior to the birth of her cubs is in worse case after the latter are brought into the world, and therefore such an one, owing to her weak state, may be tempted to take food near at hand, particularly should the breeding earth lie in the vicinity of human habitations.
On the bare, open fells, the chief food supply consists of beetles, frogs, mice, and occasional carcasses of dead sheep. In order to capture more substantial supplies in the shape of rabbits, game, or poultry, the fox is compelled to travel long distances to the low ground. Such journeys are very trying to an ill-nourished vixen, though easy enough for the dog fox; therefore when the young lambs begin to make their appearance, the mother of cubs can hardly be blamed for sneaking off with one occasionally. This habit often leads to her final undoing however, for directly such losses are noticed by the farmer, he promptly sends for the hounds, or takes matters into his own hands. Just before and after the cubs are born, the dog fox constitutes himself bread-winner to his wife and family. Should the vixen meet with an untimely end, he will continue to feed the cubs if they are old enough to eat solid food.
In order to economise labour, the fox has a habit of neatly packing the creatures he kills, for easy transport. Many instances of this habit have been recorded from time to time. On one occasion a woodcock was found near an earth, with two young rabbits tucked under its wing. A hen and several chickens were on another occasion found to have been carried in like manner. Mr. Tom Speedy, in his delightful book “The Natural History of Sport in Scotland” gives an instance of a fox bringing food wrapped in grass, for the cubs.
In the breeding—or what was known in the old days as the “clicketting” season—dog foxes fight savagely amongst themselves. I have in my possession the mask of a big dog fox, one ear of which has been torn off, no doubt the result of one of these battles. There is a popular belief that a fox when carrying a bird, seizes it by the neck, and swings the body over his shoulder. I have not seen a fox do this, nor have I heard of an authentic case. All the foxes which have come under my observation behaved exactly as a dog does, and seized their prey by the body. The fact, already described, of foxes packing fur and feather for easy transport altogether refutes the theory so often represented in pictures and nursery tales, of a fox with a goose or duck slung over its shoulder.
Although the fox is a member of the family Canidæ, there is not, as far as I am aware, an authentic case of a cross between dog and fox. Instances of this supposed cross have been recorded from time to time, but on investigation have proved doubtful. The wolf, jackal and dog will interbreed, and it is said that certain of the hybrids are fertile, therefore it seems reasonable to suppose that the same thing might happen in the case of dog and fox.
Although the fox belongs to the dog family, it is to some extent like a cat in appearance and behaviour. Mention has previously been made of the change in colour from blue-grey to amber of the fox-cubs’ eyes. The pupil of the eye of an adult fox is not round like a dog’s, but elliptical like that of a cat. In daylight it shows only as a narrow slit, but at night opens out to its full extent. As the fox does most of its hunting under cover of darkness, its eyes are therefore admirably adapted for the purpose. I have noticed that very few taxidermists put the right kind of eyes in their mounted fox masks.
The fox is usually provided with a handsome brush, but never have I seen him wag it as a dog does its tail. I have spent many hours with fox cubs in roomy enclosures, and have watched both cubs and adult foxes in a wild state, and in every case the movement of the brush has been the slow wave, or quick whisk, so common with the feline species.
A fox, like a cat, waves and twitches his brush when stalking, but though I have seen it stated that the movement of the brush may catch and hold the attention of the creature being stalked, I do not consider the theory tenable. A fox or a cat when near its prey, certainly moves its tail, but I think the latter is held so low and near the ground, that it is entirely hidden behind the body, and even on comparatively bare ground would be out of sight of the animal’s quarry. That the brush of the fox is decidedly useful on occasion, I have had evidence. I have watched a fox descend a steep and slippery snow drift, carrying his brush in a perpendicular position. It was quite apparent that in this case the brush was being used as an aid to balance. On many occasions I have seen a hard pressed fox swing his brush to right or left when making a quick turn on rough ground. It may too, help him to suddenly increase his speed, as I once witnessed a hunted fox spring from a slow canter into a fast gallop, whirling his brush round and round as he accelerated his pace.
There is a yarn concerning a fox, which, being troubled with fleas, waded into a stream and gradually immersed his body until all his tormentors collected on the tip of his brush. Giving the latter a smart shake, Reynard consigned his visitors to a watery grave, and then walked ashore. This story must however be taken cum grano salis.
I on one occasion had rather startling evidence that a wolf wags its tail like a dog. I was looking at some wolves in an enclosure, one of which walked up to the bars of the cage. It had a benign expression on its face, and wagged its tail exactly like a dog. My brother who was with me at the time, chanced to pull a brightly coloured handkerchief out of his pocket, and the change in that wolf was instantaneous. Like a flash it sprang straight at the bars, and I was very glad the latter were sound and strong.
At times the vocal sounds made by foxes, more particularly cubs, are a curious mixture of cat and dog noises.
Although the fox does most of his hunting and wandering about under cover of darkness, it is not uncommon to see him on the move by day. As befits a night prowler, his powers of scent and hearing are very keenly developed, whereas his eyesight is by no means so acute. When out hunting with the fell packs on the mountains of the Lake District, I have often found myself peculiarly well situated for viewing hunted foxes and others which had been disturbed. I have no hesitation therefore in saying that a fox depends chiefly on his nose to warn him of danger, while his ears are almost as useful, so acute is his sense of hearing. His eyesight, like that of most wild animals, is quick enough to pick up a moving object, but if the wind is right, and you sit or stand absolutely still, a fox will pass very near you without being aware of your presence. He acts in exactly the same way as a stag when you are stalking it. So long as you move only when the beast is feeding or looking in another direction, and “freeze” when he turns his gaze towards you, it is often possible to get in, on comparatively open ground.
Mention has previously been made of a fox lying asleep on the breast of a Lakeland mountain. When I first saw this fox, he was stretched at full length on a grassy ledge, enjoying the warmth of the sun. He was some two hundred yards below me, and what little wind there was blew in my direction. I was on the skyline at the time, so slid carefully down-hill for a few yards, in order to secure a background. I watched the fox, whose eyes were closed, through my field glass, and he lay as if dead. Below me was a scree bed, so I picked up a small stone and threw it down the slope. The noise of its passage being slight, the fox apparently did not hear it, but when I followed it with a larger piece of rock, he raised his head like a flash and stared straight in my direction. After a steady look, he dropped his head, but I could see through the glass that his eyes were open. I then threw another stone and got to my feet. Instantly the fox sprang up and vanished round a projecting ledge. When I kept still he never saw me, but directly I moved and became silhouetted, his eyes warned him of danger, and two jumps took him out of sight.
A fox seldom hesitates at a critical moment. He seems to know just what to do on the instant in any emergency. Only once do I remember seeing a fox pause before making up his mind A fell pack ran a fox to ground, and after a time he elected to bolt under pressure from the terriers. Some of the hounds had straggled off to a distance, and when the fox shot out of the earth, to an accompaniment of halloas from the people present, these hounds at once closed in. Suddenly the fox found his foes on all sides, and for an instant he halted on a jutting point of rock, as if debating what to do. In the end he shook them all off but one, and this hound was waiting at a point where the rocks merged into more open going. When within a few yards of the hound, the fox put on a tremendous spurt, and got safely past ; the hound being apparently too astonished to move, although the fox almost touched it.
It is impossible to dogmatise concerning the habits of the fox, for he is, like other wild creatures, conspicuous for his variability. We can, by close study however, learn a good deal about him, and one of the best methods of gaining information is by following his tracks in the snow. If the night’s trail of a fox be carefully followed, the tracker can hardly fail to learn something concerning the author of the foot-prints.
There are comparatively few people I imagine who can tell the difference between the tracks of a fox and those of a small dog whose feet are no larger than the fox’s. There is a difference however, which is shown in the stride of the fox being much longer than that of the small dog. In deep, dry snow, the marks where the brush of the fox has dragged are often plainly visible. Some foxes walk in a more slovenly manner than others, and the dragging of the feet is likewise shown when snow is on the ground. The foot of the fox makes a neat, clean impression in thin snow or mud, showing clearly the imprints of the four claws. When two foxes are travelling together, they always leave separate trails. In this they differ from wolves, a party of which may travel for several hundred yards, leaving a trail as if only a single animal had passed that way. This habit, on one occasion that I wot of, nearly led to the undoing of a hunter who tracked what he thought was a single wolf into a narrow ravine from which there was no outlet. He was promptly attacked by half a dozen wolves, four of which he killed after a pretty strenuous encounter.
In build, the fox is admirably constructed for the life he leads. Although he is a small animal, standing from 15ins. to 16ins. at the shoulder, he is remarkably fast, and very active. Although not such a good climber as the American grey fox, he can nevertheless get about in some very awkward places at a considerable height from the ground. In crags and cliffs he is entirely at home, and is often found living on the sea-cliffs, from whence he makes foraging expeditions to the shore in search of shell-fish and other marine tit-bits. His feet are of the “hare” type, with hard, shallow pads. Wherever you find him whether on the South Downs or the Scottish mountains his feet are the same, and that he can use them to some purpose we all know. This, to me, appears to be a perfect refutation of the supposed utility of the round, “cat” foot of the modern fox-hound of Peterborough type. A “hare” foot in a hound shown at Peterborough means absolute disqualification, yet the fox—on whom it is a case of six to four in the majority of runs—is a perfect example of the utility of the “hare” foot, for work on the sound grass country of the Shires, 01 the rocky, scree-strewn slopes of the Westmorland and Cumberland fells.
The fox is usually found abroad between the hours of dusk and early dawn. He is influenced by the weather, as well as the food supply. Except in the breeding season he leads a solitary exisence, and if the country is not too much disturbed, he spends the greater portion of his time above ground. In big woodlands, which are seldom sufficiently hunted, and thus form safe and quiet retreats, foxes often collect in considerable numbers. Each adult fox has its own particular beat, inside the boundary of which it knows every foot of ground. Roughly speaking, such a beat may cover a five-mile radius, and a fox driven beyond his boundary, will generally run in a more or less aimless manner, and even when pressed by hounds, will run past places where he could easily get to ground and escape them. The reason for this is I think, because a fox does not see the country as we see it. From a height of little more than 15 inches, the fox gets no general idea of the ground, so within the area of his own particular beat he is perfectly at home, because he has gradually come to know the lay of the land in detail. A cursory glance is sufficient to enable us to find our way from one covert to another, or to cross half a dozen fields; not so with the fox however. His horizon is bounded by a rise in the ground, a hedge, or some other comparatively small obstruction, and it is only by remembering in detail the objects which he passes, such as ditches, runs through fences, drains, sheep tracks, etc., that he is able to cross the country at speed, with some particular point in his mind, when hounds are on his line. Should he therefore be driven beyond the confines of his beat, his small stature prevents him seeing open earths, drains, etc., as we should see them, from a distance ; and unless he happens to run right on top of some refuge likely to afford him shelter, he trusts entirely to his legs to carry him out of danger.
Since early days, fabulists and poets have endowed the fox with extraordinary wisdom and cunning. Granted that he has shown marked ability in avoiding extermination, it should be remembered that in both this and other countries a considerable measure of protection is afforded him in certain districts. In England he owes his freedom from extermination to hunting, and this applies also to certain districts in America. Again, those foxes which are valued for their furs dwell in uninhabited regions, where trappers and hunters are comparatively few and far between, and cannot do more than take a percentage of the foxes which roam through the forests and barrens. Some foxes no doubt fall victims occasionally to wolves, cougars and the like, but I imagine their numbers must be small.
With the fox it is a case of the “survival of the fittest,” for even with the protection that hunting affords him and his kind, the foolish members of the family are soon exterminated.
The fox appears to secure most of his food by stealth. I have no doubt a fox can catch a rabbit in a straight run if he gets away close behind it, but his usual method is to make a careful stalk, and then pounce suddenly on his victim. In the case of hares, he will sometimes lie in wait for them, crouching beside a smoot in a hedge or wall, which the hares use on their journeys to and from their feeding grounds. Mr. Tom Speedy quotes an instance of a fox chasing a hare in daylight, but as both pursuer and pursued disappeared from view, it was impossible to say how the run ended. The fox is fond of young rabbits, and when his keen nose leads him to a nest of baby bunnies, he very soon unearths them.
Although the fox has a wonderfully keen nose, I think he seldom if ever springs at prey when guided solely by scent. In a book1 I read not long ago, the author, with the help of diagrams, attempts to show the doings of a fox as depicted by the animal’s tracks in the sand-hills. The fox ends his stalk by making a blind-spring at some partridges. I have read in the snow the story of many a kill by foxes, but I have yet to find evidence of a fox having trusted to his nose alone when it came to the final spring. It is always unsafe to dogmatise with regard to the habits of wild creatures, but I imagine a fox usually sees his prey before he makes his rush.
In the Canadian woods, the ruffed grouse have a habit of working their way beneath the deep, soft snow, to escape the intense cold of the winter nights. The foxes inhabiting the woods are well aware of this, and regularly hunt for, and dig the birds out.
A fox is like a dog in its fondness for rolling on carrion and other rubbish of like nature. The carcass of a dead cat appears to hold special attraction for him, and this fact has been taken advantage of by trappers in districts where Reynard is an outlaw, or is pursued for his fur. In addition to rolling on dead cats, foxes will kill live ones, and they will do the same thing with both stoats and weasels.
