The Fox Cub Bold Read Free Page A

to them,’ he bragged.
    ‘You’d be foolish not to,’ she said. ‘They’re your real competition.’
    ‘Humans?’
    ‘Of course. Why do you think the wood is so rich in game birds?’
    ‘It didn’t occur to me.’
    ‘Well, I’ll tell you,’ said the badger. ‘They’re released here by men for their use.’
    ‘Use? I don’t understand,’ said Bold. ‘Do they eat them?’
    ‘I believe so. At any rate, they hunt them.’
    ‘Hm.’ Bold pondered. ‘No wonder foxes don’t often choose to stay. But you – you’ve made your home here!’
    ‘ I’m comparatively safe,’ she said. ‘I’m not so inclined to drool over pheasant and they – the humans I mean – seem to know that.’
    ‘I see. But there don’t seem to be any men about at present, so perhaps I’ll risk staying on.’
    ‘They haven’t started hunting yet. But, let me warn you, you would be running a risk. There is one human who is always around here keeping an eye open for anything that might be after his precious birds.’
    ‘Oh – one! I’m sure I’m capable of dealing with him,’ Bold said easily.
    ‘Yes, well – maybe. But summer’s on the wane and that’s a sign that they’ll soon be coming in force. They flush the birds out of these coverts and shoot them in the open. And when that happens, woe betide any other creature who may be around. We’re all game then.’
    ‘I’ll worry about that when it happens,’ Bold said lightly. ‘Thank you for your advice – and your warm den.’
    The badger brushed past him. ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘But just remember – it is my set.’
    ‘As you say,’ he acknowledged, and went on his way.
    Bold paid some heed to the she-badger’s warning by leaving the enclosure during the daylight hours to continue his explorations. But when night fell again, he returned. Ears cocked for the faintest sound of human tread, the cub set out to track down his second victim.
    Now that the scent of fox – a new fox – had spread through the wood, the nervous game birds were not so easily caught napping. But there was one creature who had been injured previously by a stoat and was unable to fly. Bold made short work of him. And, in the succeeding nights, Bold’s desire to test his hunting skills was more than satisfied.
    As time went on he became expert in the pursuit of pheasant and, although he was not always successful in catching his favourite prey, his appetite was only increased by failure. So a pattern was established in his life which, for a week or two, did not change.
    Each evening he left the wider area of farmland and entered the enclosed wood. He never came face to face with the gamekeeper, but both were very much aware of the other’s existence. When danger threatened, Bold always managed to elude his enemy.
    From time to time the young fox came across the sow badger or one of her family. They showed surprise that he continued to thrive in their wood but he swept their astonishment aside contemptuously. He became prouder than ever of his skill and began to believe he really did have exceptional abilities.
    One night, when his usual luck deserted him, Bold decided to investigate a fresh corner of the wood. In this quarter, in addition to the mouth-watering smell of pheasant, Bold detected a new, ranker odour. He soon discovered its source. Hanging from a line attached to the enclosing fence an assortment of rotting carcasses swayed slightly in the night air. The grisly collection was comprised mostly of birds such as crows and rooks, but the decomposing bodies of a weasel and a stoat were also included. Bold realized at once he was looking at the handiwork of his enemy the gamekeeper.
    He stood, horrified but fascinated by the sight. To his keen nose, the smell was overpowering. The bodies had obviously been hanging there a long time to warn off would-be attackers of the precious game birds. No fox, or the remains of a fox, was among the grotesque collection. Bold was exultant.