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[Illustration: Courtesy Black Fox Magazine
"Blackie instantly stopped"]
RED BEN
the fox of Oak Ridge
by
Joseph Wharton Lippincott
_Author of_ BUN--a wild rabbit
[Illustration: Fox]
Illustrations by the author
THE PENN PUBLISHING
COMPANY PHILADELPHIA
1919
COPYRIGHT
1919 BY
THE PENN
PUBLISHING
COMPANY
[Illustration: RED BEN--THE FOX OF OAK RIDGE]
RED BEN--THE FOX OF OAK RIDGE
_To
a true lover of nature
--my father_
INTRODUCTION
There is reason for the fox being termed the shrewdest of wild
creatures. Unlike the deer and other vegetarians whose dinners often
grow under their noses, he rarely gets a meal without outwitting other
animals. He lacks the climbing ability of the opossum, the sharp claws
of the lynx, the protective odor of the skunk, the diving powers of the
otter--he is indeed just a little wild dog, a wonderfully bright,
hardworking little animal whose cunning alone can lead him from his
enemies and keep away the pangs of hunger.
He has been so persistently hunted by man that he is almost untameable;
but as far as he dares to be, he is friendly under ordinary
circumstances and fond of wandering around man's dwellings. Chicken
stealing is charged against him; but after all he holds the same
position in the animal world that the wise old crow does among the
birds--his good deeds and his crimes nearly balance. In "Bun, a Wild
Rabbit," the fox appeared as one of many woods creatures encountered by
that doughty cottontail; but, to do him justice, a separate volume was
required.
Foxes are much more plentiful than generally supposed. It is almost safe
to say that wherever there are woods there are foxes, yet so wonderfully
clever are they that few are seen. Whoever can distinguish their tracks
from those of other animals is usually not disposed to tell of the
discovery of fox "sign." The friend of the fox fears the fox's enemy;
the trapper fears a competitor; and so the wily creature weaves his
trail endlessly about the country side, unwatched except by the very few
"who know."
Imagination must play a part in making the story of a wild animal
complete, especially that of such an intensely shy and crafty creature
as a fox; but nothing is included here which does not fall within the
actual powers of the swift and wily red fox of today. Indeed there are
numbers of them very much like Red Ben. Parts of his story are written
in the snows of many woodlands besides Oak Ridge, and adventures such as
his are still happening in the quiet of moonlit nights.
As fast as man thinks out new methods of destruction, the fox finds
fresh tricks through which to escape. And may he ever escape! For when
the edges of our old fields no longer bear the imprint of his tireless
feet, when the woodlands that delighted his wild little heart have been
usurped by the tame dog and the tame cat, then indeed will have departed
half their charm, half the thrill of winter walks.
J. W. G.
Bethayres, Pa.
Contents
CHAPTER PAGE
I. The Coming of the Red Fox 13
II. The Den 20
III. Learning to Hunt 35
IV. Other Woodsfolk 45
V. Gray Fox 56
VI. A Long Chase 67
VII. Red Ben Is Alone 75
VIII. The Woods Awake 83
IX. Studying the Enemy 93
X. Jim Crow's Signal 101
XI. How Others Hunt 110
XII. Ben's Hundred Dollar Fox 121
XIII. Red Ben Travels 130
XIV. Blackie 138
XV. Freedom Is Sweet 153
XVI. The Road to the Sea 162
XVII. The Other Fox 172
XVIII. Home Again 183
Illustrations
"Blackie instantly stopped" _Frontispiece_
PAGE
Fox track 18
"A gray squirrel was watching her" 21
"He became indignant" 39
Coon tracks 40
"Flying Squirrel, one of the very nicest of the woodsfolk" 52
"Gray Fox was waiting to trap him" 61
Red Ben 63
Red Ben's Mother 72
The Mole 85
Deer Mouse 86
Shrew 86
"'Possum fell over backwards" 90
"They sat on their tails and held hands" 113
"Muskrat was busy pulling up grass" 115
"A turkey buzzard had been circling over him" 133
"They tore at each other through the wire" 140
"She stood on the threshold of the pen" 154
"Two coons who were having a loud altercation" 163
'Possum tracks 166
"Holding to a limb with all four feet" 185
RED BEN,
The Fox of Oak Ridge
CHAPTER I
THE COMING OF THE RED FOX
In the state of New Jersey there are still thousands of acres of
low-lying woodlands, called pine barrens, where man has done little
except chop down a few trees. Slowly but surely, however, the farmers
are each year pushing their clearings deeper into this section,
gradually overcoming the last barriers which Nature sets up to protect
her own.
Ben Slown was one of these farmers. When the forest had been cut, he
built a square house and a square barn. He planted straight-rowed
orchards, he fenced in square, flat fields. He succeeded so well in
stamping out all the natural loveliness that other practical farmers
came there to start practical farms like his.
Soon there was a village; but Ben Slown's square fields and the edge of
the wild, interesting Pine Barrens were never separated, because no plow
could conquer Oak Ridge and Cranberry Swamp.
The Ridge was a long mound covered with laurel, pines and white oaks.
Cranberry Swamp, on the other hand, was low, wet ground which bore a
nearly impenetrable mass of greenery, largely made up of tall cedars,
holly bushes and cat briars. Through the swamp flowed a little creek in
whose deep eddies green waterweeds swung with the current, giving
glimpses now and then of turtles and slender, watchful pike.
When Ben Slown first planned to come to the Pine Barrens, his friends
gloomily shook their heads.
"The foxes and other varmints will drive you out," they warned. "You
won't be able to raise a chicken. The coons and crows will eat your
corn. The woodchucks will destroy your vegetables. There are critters
enough in the Barrens to keep you from being lonely, but they won't be
the kind of neighbors you want."
"You just watch me," boasted the farmer, "I'll fix the varmints."
He was no sooner settled in his new place than he began to put traps and
poison around the cleared ground. All the little creatures that still
lived there, and the others which came out of the woods at night to
marvel at the strange new things to be seen--mice, snakes, birds,
rabbits, mink, muskrats, woodchucks, coons, possums, skunks, foxes, deer
and a lot of others--all suffered the same ill-treatment. But most of
all he feared and hated the foxes, for they were clever enough to give
him a little trouble. One after another was destroyed, however, and the
farmer was having everything his own way when all at once there was a
newcomer on the Ridge.
This was a red fox, a beautiful creature several inches taller than any
of the gray foxes that lived in the Barrens. She found the farmer's
poisoned baits, but instead of taking them she took a chicken, and that
right before his face.
This was the first fowl a fox had taken from Ben Slown, and therefore he
complained all the more loudly; so loudly indeed that the neighbors
began to think the destruction of the red fox the only thing that
interested him. Instead of asking about his health, whoever met him
would say, "Well, Ben, have you caught that pesky fox yet?" or perhaps,
"Say, Ben, that old red fox of yours is bothering me now. Why don't you
keep her at home?"
Ben would mutter something, then pass on, his brows puckered from
worrying over how to get rid of her. He might have worried far more had
he known that in a burrow near the south end of Oak Ridge the red fox
had four fine little fox pups.
Weeks went by, and still the fox and her tracks were seen occasionally,
and still the farmer worried over that chicken he had lost. Then, one
fine day, when the mice seemed scarce and the pups were very hungry, the
fox dashed among the hens and took away another, this time a big white
one.
[Illustration: Fox Track.]
The farm yard was in an uproar. Chickens cackled and rushed about, cows
mooed, sheepdogs barked, and Ben Slown, snatching his rifle from the
rack, shot twice at the fox before she reached the woods, two fields
away.
He was too much excited to aim well; the bullets went wild and the fox
went on. The farmer, however, would not believe he had made a clean
miss. Out to the fields he ran to see if a tuft of fur could be found on
the ground.
He was walking around and around, growing more and more angry because
where the fox had been he found only the white feathers of his pet hen,
when out from the woods burst a neighboring farmer.
"Ben," this man called, "Ben, get your shovel, quick! I've just found
the red fox's den!"