THE only Foxes that are hunted (the others only being taken by means of traps or poison) are the Red and Gray species. The Gray Fox is a more southern species than the Red and is rarely found north of the state of Maine. Indeed it is said to be not common anywhere in New England. In the southern states, however, it wholly replaces the Red Fox, and, according to Hallock, one of the best authorities on game animals in this country, causes quite as much annoyance to the farmer as does that proverbial and predatory animal, the terror of the hen-roost and the smaller rodents. The Gray Fox is somewhat smaller than the Red and differs from him in being wholly dark gray "mixed hoary and black." He also differs from his northern cousin in being able to climb trees. Although not much of a runner, when hard pressed by the dog he will often ascend the trunk of a leaning tree, or will even climb an erect one, grasping the trunk in his arms as would a Bear. Nevertheless the Fox is not at home among the branches, and looks and no doubt feels very much out of place while in this predicament. The ability to climb, however, often saves him from the hounds, who are thus thrown off the scent and Reynard is left to trot home at his leisure.

Foxes live in holes of their own making, generally in the loamy soil of a side hill, says an old Fox hunter, and the she-Fox bears four or five cubs at a litter. When a fox-hole is discovered by the Farmers they assemble and proceed to dig out the inmates who have lately, very likely, been making havoc among the hen-roosts. An amusing incident, he relates, which came under his observation a few years ago will bear relating. A farmer discovered the lair of an old dog Fox by means of his hound, who trailed the animal to his hole. This Fox had been making large and nightly inroads into the poultry ranks of the neighborhood, and had acquired great and unenviable notoriety on that account. The farmer and two companions, armed with spades and hoes, and accompanied by the faithful hound, started to dig out the Fox. The hole was situated on the sandy slope of a hill, and after a laborious and continued digging of four hours, Reynard was unearthed and he and Rep, the dog, were soon engaged in deadly strife. The excitement had waxed hot, and dog, men, and Fox were all struggling in a promiscuous melee. Soon a burly farmer watching his chance strikes wildly with his hoe-handle for Reynard's head, which is scarcely distinguishable in the maze of legs and bodies. The blow descends, but alas! a sudden movement of the hairy mass brings the fierce stroke upon the faithful dog, who with a wild howl relaxes his grasp and rolls with bruised and bleeding head, faint and powerless on the hillside. Reynard takes advantage of the turn affairs have assumed, and before the gun, which had been laid aside on the grass some hours before, can be reached he disappears over the crest of the hill.

Hallock says that an old she-Fox with young, to supply them with food, will soon deplete the hen-roost and destroy both old and great numbers of very young chickens. They generally travel by night, follow regular runs, and are exceedingly shy of any invention for their capture, and the use of traps is almost futile. If caught in a trap, they will gnaw off the captured foot and escape, in which respect they fully support their ancient reputation for cunning.