Thomas Smith's 'The Life of a Fox written by Himself ' 1843

 

Whittaker and Co. first edition - 1843

I quite enjoyed this unusual book, made up of reminiscences from several foxes! The meeting of the dozen reynards was convened by the 'author' of the tale, one Wily. 

There is nothing I should like better than to invite to supper all the foxes that have escaped from packs by which they have been respectively hunted to-day, and then persuade them to declare to what cause they owed their escape...I invited all of my friends who had at any time beaten some pack of repute...ten of my guests, besides an interloper, arrived at the place appointed, beneath an old oak tree in the New Forest. Some must have travelled for several hundred miles: there were, as well as Wyly from Hampshire/Sussex; Cocktail from Harborough in Leicestershire; Craven from Savernake Forest in Wiltshire (my own home ground!); Pytchly from Northants; Dorset from Cranborne Chase; Warwick from the Atherstone area in  Warwickshire; Chester from Nantwich in Cheshire; The Bold Dragoon from Devonshire; Berkshire from the Windsor Forest surrounds; Sandy, who must have travelled the furthest, from the borderlands of Berwickshire and Northumberland. One more friend was about to begin his story. Whether he was from York, Lincoln, Nottingham, or Bedfordshire, was not ascertained, for on a sudden we were startled by the cawing of an old crow and the screams of a jay, which, added to the chatterings of a couple of magpies, warned us that daylight was appearing...therefore, hastily bidding adieu until we should meet again, we all returned to our favourite coverts. 

Inevitably there was a fair amount of repetition - there are only so many tales of drains and culverts, copses, rivers, and racing through sheep flocks - but Wyly clearly had gathered genuine information about his fellow foxes' escapades and clever manoeuvres. It was also interesting to read of the different approaches of the various Masters of the Hounds and their Whippers-in. One of the most noteworthy stories was that of Craven, who had crawled up the side of a large oak tree whilst being pursued by a pack. Eventually spotted by a keeper, who started to climb the tree, he sprang from my lofty nest, broke his fall by landing on some branches and got clean away. The drop was some 27 feet.

I found the Dedication To the Right Hon. Charles Earl of Hardwicke, written from Main Earth on June 6th, 1843 quite amusing. Wyly admits that the love I bear your Lordship is much the same as that borne to myself by the most venerable hen now cackling in your farm-yard, whose half-fledged brood I have often thinned. However, Wyly had always found in your Lordship a fair and open enemy, hence worthy of the dedication.