The Fox and the Hound

by Daniel P. Mannix

  For the next few days, Copper tracked the fox until he knew the animal's regular route almost perfectly, even though the Master always stopped him when they approached the culvert and the hillside. Copper had not the slightest trouble in distinguishing between this particular fox and other foxes, just as he could easily tell the scent of an individual man from man scent in general. After a few errors, Copper learned that the Master was interested only in this especial animal, so the hound ignored other fox trails and concentrated on the now familiar scent. Except for the unusual concentration on an individual scent, Copper perfectly understood what the Master was up to now, for he had played this game with him many times. Yet never before had the Master been so determined to trace out the entire nightly run of a fox, and Copper grew heartily tired of the business and eager for the climax that he knew was coming.

  There had been a cold spell and every morning the ground was covered with frost; so scenting had been difficult, if not impossible, until after the sun rose and the frozen earth released its odors. Then came a warm night. Copper was still sleeping when he heard the Master's footstep and his name spoken. At once the old hound wormed his way out of the barrel and jumped delightedly on the Master, for he knew this must be the day.

  It was. The Master had no lead and was carrying his shotgun. There was a fog; but this did not bother the hound, as he made comparatively little use of his eyes anyhow. Scenting conditions were perfect and Copper happily sucked in lungfuls of the air, noting and separating the multitudinous odors that came to him. After the long freeze he felt as happy as though he had been locked up in a dark cellar and the light had finally been turned on.

  They started off, stopping and picking up two men at different farmhouses on the way. Both men carried guns, and Copper recognized them by their odor as old hunting friends of the Master's. The men made much of Copper; and he enthusiastically responded, for now there was no doubt whatsoever about the purpose of the expedition. When these two men went with the Master, they always came back with a fox.

  The sun was up now and the fog was breaking up into rags of mist, lifting like steam from the warm earth, As they drove past farmhouses, Copper could smell smoke from the chimneys, always a good sign, for it meant the smoke was lying low instead of straight up and the scent would also hug the ground instead of rising over his head. In spite of his eagerness, Copper made it a point to lie quietly as the car bumped over the washboard roads, for he knew he had a long run ahead of him and would need all the rest he could get now.

  The car stopped and Copper shook himself and prepared to rise, but the Master was only dropping off one of the men. Copper recognized the spot; it was the crossing where the multiflora hedge and overgrown wire fence intersected. Copper watched with a professional eye while the man took up his position in a sassafras thicket. He was well placed, at least fifty feet from the crossing where the fox could be expected to run. Copper had seen men so stupid they had taken up a stand at the crossing itself, where, of course, the fox winded them as he came in. Copper checked the breeze to make sure the man was also downwind of the crossing. Everything was all right, and Copper settled down with a contented sigh.

  After a few miles they stopped again, and this time Copper did not bother to move. He knew they were dropping off the second hunter, and Copper watched him go down toward the log over the stream. This was another crossing that he and the Master had carefully worked out. Then the car went on with only him and the Master left, so Copper knew well their destination.

  They stopped near the railroad tracks and Copper jumped out as soon as the door was open. The Master followed. Copper ate some grass to make himself vomit so he would be lighter for the long run ahead, Then he hit the well-padded trail through the juniper, checked the culvert briefly, and crossed the road, where he stopped to sniff. The wind was against him but Copper did not worry. The fox would surely be lying up on the hill ahead as he had that morning a week ago. Copper knew foxes.

  They started up the hill, Copper running ahead. The Master spoke to him and he slowed his gait. Up and up they went, Copper constantly testing the breeze, but it was blowing from behind them and told him nothing. They were close to the crest now, so surely something had to happen soon.

  The Master gave a sudden yell. Copper could see nothing, but he knew the fox was running, and dashed forward. Casting about frantically, he found the fallen pine and the heavy smell of fox hit him full in the face. Copper screamed with excitement, but the scent was so strong he could not at once pick up the light trail made by the fleeing animal.

  "Here, boy, here!" shouted the Master. Copper was so excited he did not respond until the second call. By then he realized that he could not hit the trail right off, so he ran to the Master, who was pointing downward. Coming in at an angle, Copper crossed the fox's line higher up and instantly stopped as though he had run into a brick walk He ran up and down briefly to make sure of the direction the fox was going - the forward trail smelled slightly different from the heel because of the position of the scent glands in the fox's pads - and then tore downhill, baying at the top of his great voice.

  The scent was breast-high, so there was no need to drop his head, and he saw the fox cross the road ahead of him, a brief flicker of dark gray. On the road he lost the scent momentarily - it was covered with dry dust that got in his nose - but Copper made no attempt to follow it here. Knowing the fox had crossed straight over, he rushed on, holding his head up to avoid fouling his valuable nose with the dust. On the other side were grass and weeds, so here the scent held and Copper resumed his baying. As he ran, he heard the sound of the Master's car starting up and then pulling away with a rapid acceleration from one gear to another. Copper was delighted at the sound, for he knew from many past experiences that the Master, now he saw how the fox was running, would speed to the next crossing and wait for the fox there.

  The fox was now on his regular route and, barring unforeseeable accidents, would stick to it, as he knew the path so perfectly he could make better speed along it than across country. Copper knew it too and pressed hard. The fox could of course run his route either way; but as Copper expected, he ran it upwind so he could smell anything ahead of him. Copper understood this principle perfectly, for he disliked running downwind himself - it was like running blind not to know what was ahead of you. There was a north wind blowing and it was so strong, damp, and cold that occasionally Copper got whiffs of scent from the fox himself as well as the scent from his tracks.

  The fox was not bothering to exert himself; he was running easily only a few hundred yards ahead. Copper could tell, for when the quarry puts forth its full efforts the scent is much stronger and more distinctive as the energy forces more odor from the scent glands. The knowledge outraged the hound, and as the scent was screaming hot, he charged on ahead recklessly. In spite of his heavy build, the half-bloodhound was capable of putting on a surprising burst of speed for short distances, and Copper noted with satisfaction that the scent grew gratifyingly stronger and that there was even a wonderful trace of the fear odor mixed with it. That exciting odor caused him to redouble his efforts.

  They were approaching the first crossing now, a windbreak of evergreens that ran beside a road. The route led along the trees and then made a sharp turn to the right across the road and through some locusts to an open field. The Master would be behind the evergreens, waiting. Copper's baying took on a triumphal note as he anticipated the boom of the shotgun.

  Then he heard a sound that filled him with shame and foreboding - it was the noise of the Master's car coming up the road. At once Copper slowed down. In his excitement he had committed the unforgivable crime, unworthy of even an inexperienced puppy, of pressing the fox too hard and not giving the gunner a chance to get to his stand. One of those stupid Walkers or Triggs might make such a mistake, but that he, Copper, would so forget himself was inexcusable. Remorsefully, he fell into a trot and almost stopped baying in hopes the fox would slow his pace, but he knew it was t
oo late. The sound of the car was too far away and the fox was still running strong; he could tell by the hot scent. There was nothing for it now except push on. Copper ran the line of evergreens, crossed the road, and followed the line through the locusts. Then, safe from possible punishment by the Master, he resumed his baying.

  Beyond the locusts, the fox had left his usual run to cut across the open field. Copper was so surprised that he checked carefully, suspecting some trick, but the trail was plain and distinct. The rising sun was warming the ground, making little currents of air that swirled the scent around the tufts of grass, and Copper followed the line from tuft to tuft to save time. The fox had run a zigzag course across the field as though looking for something, and Copper took advantage of this to cut straight across, following the fox's general drift rather than trying to unravel each of the loops. The field was heavy with the foil of cattle, but none were to be seen. At this hour they were all in the barn being milked, and Copper could hear their lowing and smell their sweet breath and the hot, fresh scent of the milk. At one place the fox had stopped to roll in some half-dry manure before going on. The manure neutralized his body odor and would have caused Copper real trouble if he had been forced to take the trail from leaves or tall grass that had rubbed against the animal's body, as was often the case in cover or in overgrown fields. Here in the short-clipped pasture, he could smell the scent from the pads where they prssed the grass, so the manure hardly bothered him at all.

  The fox left the field and cut across country, completely ignoring his regular run. By doing so, he missed the next crossing where, Copper knew, the Master would probably have gone. There was nothing to do but continue on the trail, baying as loudly as possible so the master could tell what happened. The fox was now running in an almost perfectly straight line, clearly headed for some definite objective, and Copper apprehensively increased his pace. The fox might be planning to go down a hole. Copper knew from the fox's smell that he was a young animal, hardly more than a pup, and pups were more apt to go down holes than older foxes.

  The trail led into another field with grass as short as a lawn. Here the fox had made a number of spy-hops leaping high in the air to see about him. These spy-hops made a series of breaks in the trail that puzzled Copper until he realized what they were. Then the fox had turned off at a sharp angle. After running a few yards, he had dropped down and started to crawl on his belly. Here the scent was so strong Copper burst into full cry, lifting his head as he ran in hopes of seeing his quarry ahead of him.

  Instead he ran into a Bock of sheep that exploded in front of him. A belligerent ram refused to move, and stood threatening with his head down. As the trail led right under him, Copper grabbed the stupid beast by the wool around his neck, dragged him to one side, and then continued on. But the panicky animals had virtually obliterated the line with their sharp hoofs and pungent odor. Copper could find only the faintest ghosts of scent, and these were too scattered to form a continued trail.

  After a few minutes' effort, Copper left the trampled field in disgust and made a long cast around the fence line. Behind the sheep there was nothing, and Copper had to turn and go the other way. Here he finally picked up the line again where the fox had gone under the fence. The fox had backtracked - just like one of those sneaky creatures! He had crawled in among the sheep and lain there, watching Copper come up. He had probably still been there while Copper was having his fight with the ram. Then when he saw Copper start out to make his cast, he had run back through the flock, ducked under the fence, and was now headed back toward his regular run. Copper began to bay again, in indignation at the trick that had been played on him as much as in satisfaction at hitting the line.

  As Copper had suspected, the line led back to the regular route, and he picked it up beside a post-and-rail fence surrounding a plowed field where winter wheat had been planted, The plowed earth completely absorbed the scent, and Copper would have been hopelessly lost had he not been able to pick up occasional ends of odor blown into the furrows by the wind. Copper paused to clear his nose by sniffing loudly and long before going on, but even so the bits of scent were so few and far between he would have been defeated had the fox not kept along the fence. As soon as he realized how the fox was running, Copper simply followed the fence. Had the fox turned and cut across the field, the hound would have been at a hopeless loss, but the fox had here kept to his regular run, and at the end of the fence where he had turned at right angles to go up a path leading to a small woods, the hound was able to pick up the line again and follow it.

  As he approached the trees, Copper smelled where the fox had jumped a rabbit from its form and turned off the route to catch and kill it. In spite of his careful training, Copper could not resist the temptation to make a quick cast to see if the fox had left the rabbit living there, but he had carried off its quarry. Clearly the fox thought he has lost the hound in the sheep field, and was no longer worried. Copper would show him differently. The hound pushed on, hoping to find the fox eating his kill. Just before he reached the woods, he came upon the body of the rabbit. The fox had not broken into it and had dropped it when he heard or smelled the hound coming. After a quick sniff at the dead animal, Copper plunged into the cover.

  The trees were pines, and their resinous odor tended to mask the scent. Even worse, the ground was heavily carpeted with dead needles that carried almost no scent in the deep shade, especially as the ground was still frozen here. Copper went on by taking the scent from branches that had touched the fox as he passed. He came to a place where the fox had run along a fallen tree, the roots still in the ground. Copper jumped clumsily on the trunk and followed the scent along it until he came to the end five feet above the ground. Here the fox had apparently jumped off and continued his flight, but Copper did not even bother to make the jump himself and check. He knew this fox trick. He turned and carefully retraced his steps, sniffing carefully. Ah, just as he had suspected, there was a double track. The fox had run to the end of the log, turned, and backtracked. Copper followed the double line to a point where there was only a single trail and then jumped off there. After a quick cast he came to where the fox had landed and continued running. With great satisfaction, Copper took up the trail again.

  Scenting conditions were especially bad here, and the pines grew so far apart Copper could not get any scent from the twigs. He was forced to stop and scratch with both paws among the needles to stir up what scent there was. His loose upper lip spread as he sucked up the faint hints. Then to his infinite satisfaction he came to a place where the fox had obviously run around in circles, hoping to leave such a tangle of trails the hound would be hours unraveling them. Copper made no attempt to follow the line. He simply left the mess and made a long cast around it, knowing the fox would have some out somewhere. He struck the fresh, straight trail and went right away on it. As he ran he burst into a little clearing and heard a crackling in the frozen ferns ahead. When he reached the spot, the smell of fox hit him like a blow. The fox had been lying in the ferns, confident that the hound could never read the riddle of the log and tangle. Now the quarry was right ahead of him and copper drove hard.

  At the edge of the cover. Copper came on fresh dung. The fox had emptied his bowels, both from nervousness and a desire to lighten himself for a long run. He was not nearly so confident as he had been at the beginning of the hunt. He had probably been chased by cur dogs who had been easily fooled by such tricks. Very well, this fox would now learn the difference between a cur and a hound.

  Out of the cover, the fox had run along a slash made by a high-tension line and then through a hole in a fence so overgrown by honeysuckle and grape that no trace of the original wire could be seen. The fox had been running just ahead of the hound, but now he suddenly put on speed, as Copper could tell by the scent growing distinctly fainter as the fox outdistanced him. Copper knew what that meant - they were coming to a crossing. The fox wanted to leave the hound well behind so he would have time to stop at the crossi
ng, look about him, and test the breeze before going over the road. The fox's path lay along a hedgerow that fenced a farm, and as Copper reached it, he recognized by both sight and smell the multiflora hedge where one of the gunners had been stationed.

  At once, Copper put forth his utmost speed, at the same time changing his rather perfunctory baying to a loud cry in order to alert the man ahead, just as the volume of his baying changed when he wanted to notify other hounds that the quarry had changed its course and was headed toward them. It was crucially important for the fox to be pressed as hard as possible coming into the crossing, as otherwise he would have time to detect the presence of the waiting man. Although his feet felt heavier now than they had at the beginning of the run, and breathing was harder, Copper Rung himself forward, shouting as loudly as he could.

  The thorny, unclipped stems of the hedge hung down in a veil, and between them and the hedge itself the fox had made a run that was almost a tunnel. Copper was too big to follow him here, and also the thorns tore the hound's long, soft ears, so he ran across the field, paralleling the hedge and still throwing his voice until the baying echoed from the side of a nearby barn. Copper knew well the fox was heading for the crossing, so there was no need to follow the trail exactly - simply press hard and notify the man that they were coming.

  Two farm dogs rushed out of the barnyard and ran barking toward Copper. The hound was annoyed at these yapping idiots and kept on, but the dogs refused to let him go. Thinking that he was running from them they rushed in, dividing to attack from both sides. To his amazement and rage, Copper found himself involved in a dogfight with two ignorant curs who did not recognize a professional hound at work when they saw one.