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SHARP EYES, THE SILVER FOX CHAPTER I SHARP EYES SEES
SOMETHING AWAY up in the North Woods lived a family of foxes. They had big, bushy tails, like a dust brush, and they wore furry coats. Some of these furry coats were of a reddish-yellow color, and some of them a sort of gray. The foxes had long sharp noses and sharp teeth, and they were very sly and cunning, as they had need to be. For a fox is not
strong, like a lion or a tiger, and to get his food he must be quick and sly,
and steal up when no one sees him, to get a fat duck or a chicken from the
farmyard. Now in this family
of foxes, about which I am going to tell you, there was the father and mother,
and three little ones. Mr. and Mrs. Fox were well grown, fleet of foot, and
they could both see and smell danger a long way off, just as they could see and
smell when they were near some farmer’s house, where they might get a chicken
or a duck. The home of the
foxes was in a hollow log, in the deepest and darkest part of the North Woods,
and in this hollow log the three little foxes lived. They were named Sharp
Eyes, Twinkle and Winkle. Sharp Eyes was the
oldest of the children, though they were all nearly the same age. The reason he
was called Sharp Eyes was because he had such sharp, sparkling eyes, which
seemed to look right through the bushes and trees at anything he wanted to
find. Twinkle, who was
Sharp Eyes’ brother, was so called because when he ran downhill or uphill his
feet seemed to twinkle in and out like flashes of light. Winkle, who was
Sharp Eyes’ sister, was so called because she seemed to winkle and blinkle her
eyes, sleepy-like, when she looked at anything. So Sharp Eyes,
Twinkle and Winkle lived with their father and mother in the hollow log in the
big woods. The little foxes, at first, stayed very close to the log. In fact,
they did not go outside it until they were pretty well grown, and about the
size of puppy dogs. Each day their father and mother would crawl out of the
log, look carefully around to make sure there were no dogs, hunters, or other
dangers near, sniff the air to see if they could smell anything that might harm
them or their little ones, and then one or the other would slink slyly away
through the woods, to look for something to eat, not only for themselves, but
to bring home to the little foxes. One day when Mr.
Fox had come home with a plump partridge and the little foxes were having a
good dinner, Sharp Eyes asked: “Mother, where did
my father get this fine meat for us to eat?” “He caught it in
the woods.” Of course the Fox
family did not speak the same kind of language that you boys and girls use.
They talked in their own language, which they could understand as well as you
can understand one another. But so that you may know what the foxes said among
themselves, and what they thought, I have put their sayings into your kind of words.
Foxes, like other
animals, talk with whispers, sniffles, snuffles, whines, barks and howls, and
it is very hard to understand them unless you know their language, as I do.
But, once you do, it is as easy to know what they say as if you heard the boy
on your next street call: “Come on, spin
tops!” So now you’ll
understand what I mean when I say a fox “says” this, that, or the other. “Where did my
father get this fine meat?” asked Sharp Eyes, and when his mother told him Mr.
Fox caught it in the woods, the little fox, as he gnawed a bone, smacked his
lips and asked: “But how did he get
it?” “I’ll tell you,
little Sharp Eyes,” said Mr. Fox. “And you listen also, Twinkle and Winkle. For
you must soon learn to catch your own dinners and suppers, as well as
breakfasts.” So the little foxes
listened while their father told them how to make a living in the woods, where
there are no stores at which animals can buy what they want to eat. “I was coming along
under the trees,” said Mr. Fox, “and I was looking on both sides of me for
something to bring home to your mother and you to eat. Up to then I had not
caught anything. I sprang after a muskrat, but it jumped into the brook and got
away from me. Then I tried to creep softly up behind a young wild turkey in the
woods, but he heard me and flew away. “So I was beginning
to think I’d never get a meal for my family, and I knew you were hungry, when,
all at once, I saw this partridge. I walked as softly as I knew how over the
leaves and sticks in the woods, and, without his hearing me, I got so close to
the bird that I could jump on him, pin him down with my feet, and catch him in
my sharp teeth. Then I brought him home to you. That’s how I got your dinner,
Sharp Eyes.” “And a very good
dinner it is, too,” said Mrs. Fox. “You animal children ought to be very glad
you have such a smart father. It is not every fox that can catch a partridge.” “Oh, well, we
mustn’t be proud,” said Mr. Fox, as, with his tail, he brushed smooth a place
inside the log, where he could lie down. “Our children will soon be grown, and
they will learn how to catch wild turkeys, partridges, quail and muskrats for
themselves.” “How do you catch
wild things in the woods?” asked Sharp Eyes. “Yes, tell us, so
we may learn,” begged Twinkle. “I will,” answered
Mr. Fox. “It is time you little fox puppies learned to hunt for yourselves. You
are old enough. After you have had a nap we will go outside the log house, and
your mother and I will give you lessons.” So the little foxes
went to sleep after their meal, as nearly all wild animals do, and as even your
cat and dog do after they have eaten. They always seem to feel sleepy after
eating. And when Sharp Eyes, Twinkle and Winkle awakened after their nap, they
felt fine and fresh, and felt like jumping around. In fact, Sharp Eyes
felt so fresh that he cuffed his brother on the ear with his paw. “Ma, make Sharp
Eyes stop!” cried Twinkle, in fox language of course. “Oh, I wasn’t doing
anything!” said Sharp Eyes. “Yes he was, too!”
barked Sister Winkle. “And now he’s tickling me!” “I guess it’s time
I gave you little foxes some lessons in how-to-catch-things,” said Mr. Fox, as
he stretched himself, for he, too, had been sleeping. “You are so full of life
that you are getting into mischief. Come out, all of you, and I’ll show you how
I caught the partridge.” Sharp Eyes would
have rushed out of the log at once, but his mother held him back with her paw,
saying: “Wait! Let your father take a look first, to see that there is no danger. You must always be careful in going out of your house, whether it is a hole under the rocks or a hollow log or a stump, to look for danger. Watch your father!” “He pretended a piece of wood was the partridge he was after” Mr. Fox stuck his
nose out of the log a little way and sniffed the air. Then he stuck it out a
little farther. Next he looked around with his bright eyes. “Is everything all
right?” asked Mrs. Fox. “Everything is all
right,” said Mr. Fox. So out in front of
the hollow-log house, where there was a smooth, level place, went Mr. Fox and
the three little foxes. Mrs. Fox stayed in the log to shake up the dried leaves
that made the beds. That was all the housekeeping work she had to do, for
foxes, like most animals, live a very simple life. “Now this is how I
crept softly up behind the partridge,” said Mr. Fox, as he went along, almost
on his tiptoes, as you might say. “You must be careful not to step on a stick
so it breaks and makes a noise,” he told the little foxes; “and do not rustle the
dried leaves. For partridges and other wild birds and all woodland creatures
that we have to eat, are very shy, and fly off or run away at the least noise.
You see, we have not sharp claws, like a cat, with which to grasp the things we
catch. We have to pin them down with our paws, as a dog does, or get them in
our sharp teeth, and we have to be very close to them before they see us, so we
can do that.” So Mr. Fox showed
his little ones how to creep along softly over the sticks, stones and leaves.
He pretended a piece of wood was the partridge he was after, and, when he got
close enough, he gave a jump and came down on top of it, quickly getting it in
his mouth. “That’s the way I
would have done it if it had been a real bird,” said Mr. Fox. “Now you try,
Sharp Eyes, and let us see how you would do it.” So the little fox
boy tried, and so did his brother and his sister, and for many days after that
their father or their mother gave them hunting lessons outside the hollow log. After a while Sharp
Eyes, Twinkle, and Winkle learned to be very good jumpers, and they could move
over a bit of ground, covered with sticks, stones and leaves, so softly that
you never would have heard them. “Now come out in
the woods, and let us see if you can be as quiet when there is something real
to catch, instead of the make-believe birds and rats, that are really only
pieces of wood,” said Mr. Fox. For, up to this time, he had let the fox
children practise on bits of bark, clumps of grass, or a stone, pretending they
were grouse or partridges. Through the woods
went the family, Mr. Fox in front, then Sharp Eyes, Twinkle and Winkle, and
Mrs. Fox behind them all. The two old foxes were looking out for danger, you
see. All at once Mr. Fox
stopped, and, speaking in an animal whisper, said: “Here is a mouse
just in front of me, Sharp Eyes. He does not see me yet. Come and see if you
can get it!” Up came Sharp Eyes
very, very softly. He saw a big wood mouse under the roots of a tree. The mouse
was gnawing the soft bark. “Now go softly,”
said Mr. Fox. Sharp Eyes tried
to, but alas! he stepped on a dried stick, which broke with a crack. The mouse
heard it and started to jump down into his burrow under the earth. “No, you don’t!”
cried Mr. Fox, and he made a big jump and caught the mouse just in time. “That’s the way to
do it!” barked Mrs. Fox. “The mouse would have gotten away from you, Sharp
Eyes.” “I’m sorry,”
replied the little fox boy slowly and sadly. “Never mind,” said
his father. “You’ll do better the next time.” But it was some
days before the little foxes learned to catch anything. “Oh, shall we ever
learn?’ asked Twinkle. “Of course you
will,” said his mother. “When I was a young fox, like you, I thought I’d never
catch my first mouse. But I did.” So Mr. and Mrs. Fox
had to keep on catching the things the little foxes ate, though each day Sharp
Eyes, Twinkle and Winkle were getting quicker and better. But one day Mr. Fox
came home without any dinner. “What’s the
matter?” asked Mrs. Fox. “Couldn’t you catch anything to-day?” “No,” answered Mr.
Fox. “In fact, I didn’t see a thing. I’ve tramped all over these woods, but not
a bird or an animal could I see. Of course I saw cows and horses in the
farmers’ yards, but they are too big for me to carry off.” “Couldn’t you get a
chicken or a duck?” “I saw some ducks
and chickens on one farm,” replied Mr. Fox, “but the farmer, or one of his men,
was near them all the while with a gun or a club, and I dared not try to catch
one. I’d have been caught or hurt myself if I had. I’m sorry, but we’ll have no
dinner to-day.” Sharp Eyes and his
brother and sister felt sad on hearing this. They were very hungry. “Couldn’t we all go
out hunting together?” asked Sharp Eyes, after a bit. “Maybe we could see something
you could catch,” he said to his father. “Well, perhaps that
would be a good plan,” replied Mr. Fox. “Come on, we’ll all go out and see if
we can find a meal.” So out into the
woods went the five foxes — the two large ones and the three smaller ones.
Slowly and carefully they went along, looking from side to side, and sniffing
the air for any sign of something to eat. “There doesn’t seem
to be anything,” said Mrs. Fox, with a hungry sigh. “No,” answered Mr.
Fox, “there doesn’t. I never saw the woods so scarce of food.” All of a sudden
Sharp Eyes, who had gone a little way ahead, came softly back. “I see something!”
he said. “Shall I try to get it for our dinner?” “What is it? Where
is it?” asked Mr. Fox eagerly. “I don’t see anything,” and he looked as hard as
he could through the bushes. “Right over there,
by the old stump,” said Sharp Eyes. “Don’t you see? It’s a big chicken.” Mr. Fox looked.
Then he said: “That isn’t a
chicken! It’s a wild turkey! If we get that it will make a fine meal for all of
us! Sharp Eyes, you were rightly named. You saw this turkey when neither your
mother nor I could see it. It’s a good thing you did. Now we’ll have a fine
meal!” |