The Life of a Fox, Written by Himself — John Shaqi
The Life of a Fox, Written by HimselfSmith, Thomas
General
The Life of a Fox, Written by Himself
Smith, Thomas
Fox hunting
I was soon prepared for another run with a north-east wind, which might
have led me to take the same line as before, but that I heard Sawyer
the whipper-in exclaim, “’Tis our old fox, and he went through the same
holes that he did the last time we found him.” He gave the view-halloo
directly afterwards. I felt certain that they came again thus soon
determined if possible to kill me; and though frightened a little, I
took care to keep on without stopping to listen, as I had done before;
so that I kept a good distance ahead of them, and continued my best
pace for many miles, crossing Wolmer Forest into Sussex. I no longer
heard the hounds following me, and being much distressed with fatigue,
ran forward to very short distances, and then turned either to the
right or to the left, in order to baffle my pursuers. At length I came
opposite to some buildings, and seeing a large pile of wood, crept in
amongst it and lay down. After listening for some time, I heard the
cry of a few hounds not far off; but the noise ceased just about the
spot where I turned down the road, and all was silent for some time. At
last I heard the voice of Sawyer the whipper-in, saying he must take
the hounds home to the kennel if his horse would enable him; but that
the huntsman’s and the other whipper-in’s horses were both done; and so
they were, for they never lived to reach their stable.
Having again escaped from that clever huntsman Foster and his pack, I
determined at first to remain in this part of Sussex. It was hunted by
Colonel Wyndham, whose hounds I soon had reason to know were not less
fatal than those by which I had lately been so severely hunted. They
seemed to me to be quicker in their work, and to keep closer to me when
it was a good scenting day; although when it happened to be otherwise
they could not hunt me so long or so far as the other pack had done.
Once or twice when I was nearly tired they left me, owing to the scent
being bad, and went to find another fox, when I believe that Foster and
his pack would have gone on longer, if not killed me. The pace they
obliged me to go, when hunting me over the hills, was terribly fast,
and very probably the cause of their not making so much cry when in
pursuit. Indeed they ran almost mute, and at times got very near to me
before I was aware of their approach.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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