The Life of a Fox, Written by HimselfSmith, Thomas
General
The Life of a Fox, Written by Himself
Smith, Thomas
Fox hunting
On that score, my friends, I have not much to boast of; but having
heard that the fair Queen had taken to herself a consort who rejoiced
in the chase, I resolved to visit the royal forest. Soon I found that
foxes here existed only in name. Some day in December I was lying
in Windsor Forest about three o’clock in the afternoon, when I was
disturbed by the voice of Sir J. Cope’s huntsman, Shirley, who was
taking the hounds through the forest to find a fox. Though so late,
he was most persevering, and appeared determined to learn whether or
not within the purlieus of the forest there was a fox left alive by
the keepers. Seeing this, I lost no time; but when stealing away was
viewed by some of the hunters. The hounds soon followed me, and though
it was a bad scenting day, I narrowly escaped. I saw enough of them to
convince me that they were not to be trifled with, and that a tolerable
scent would tax all my powers to beat them.
It was some years ago that I was lying in a covert at Billingbeare,
when I was startled by Shirley’s voice. I soon got away from the
covert, thinking that I was not seen, but I was mistaken. A view-halloo
was given, and the hounds were soon on my scent. I went the best pace
I could straight towards and through the large woods at Shottesbrook,
and onwards in the direction of Maidenhead thicket, where I passed
through the middle of a small village. As the hounds had not been
seen or heard, no one was looking out, and consequently no one saw
me, although I passed through a cottage garden; and it behoves me to
state that I probably owed my safety to nothing more dignified than a
pig-sty attached to that garden, and which neutralised the scent; for
the hounds soon afterwards hunting so far, were unable to hunt farther.
It was supposed by the huntsman that I had taken refuge in some of
the buildings, and a search was made; when a sportsman who was present
expressed his surprise to a gentleman well-known in the hunt that they
did not first hold on the hounds beyond the village, and make that
good first; they would then have seen whether I had gone on or not, and
if not it would have been time to come back and try all those places.
This hint was taken, but too late to gain by it, for the scent, which
the hounds had got on again, was now so cold that they could hunt me
but slowly, instead of going at the pace they had hitherto gone, and
which must have been the death of me had it been continued but a short
time longer. I went straight on for several miles, until I reached the
Thames near Cookham. I did not like to cross it, and returned to Bisham
Wood; by which time, owing to my stopping about in a part of the wood,
the hounds had got very near to me, when it luckily grew nearly dark;
and though I was seen by them at not more than five hundred yards’
distance, they were stopped and taken home, and I narrowly escaped
from one of the most dashing packs in the kingdom. It is to be hoped
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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