Translation:The High Mountains/22

Two days later the fox said to her little ones:

“Today I'm going to take you into a city. Be careful not to get lost because there are eight houses. This is the first time you'll see such a metropolis.

When we get there, don't hang about the open spaces, in the light or in the theatres. We're going straight to the henhouse. It's left open, as it must be in a big city, and inside there are some splendid hens and it seems that they have been reserved for the best of the foxes. That must be me, of course.

“Up until now you've hunted mice, frogs, crabs, crows and beetles. The time has come for you to practise on hens.”

So saying, she squatted down and brought round her big furry tail. Any hunter who had seen her at that moment would have said: “Ah! If only I could have your fur this winter! I'd put it at 600 drachmas.”

But was it so easy for the hunter to see it? No. The beautiful fur of our fox which the hunters envy and which puts her continually in danger, is self-protecting. The colour is such that it merges in with the colour of the surroundings. It looks like both foliage and ground, even stones: it is yellowy-red, ashy on the chest, the stomach and waist, a bit white on the forehead and shoulders, red on the front paws and black on the ears.

In this way the fox often eludes man. Many are the times when the hunter took it for another thing like ground or a log or a stone and continued on his way. And the fox's seven little cubs have been saved by their colouring too.

Once, when they were sitting on the edge of their den waiting for their mother to return from hunting, a falcon passed in the sky but didn't see them. The falcon's vision was fooled by the cunning colouring of the fox and her cubs! Till when will it be like this? Until when will the fox keep escaping? Who knows? One day his hour will be up as well. The hunters are tricked by the colour, but a dog's nose is no joke! This fools nobody. Our dear fox knows all about that. But the hen is a delicious meal!

And how good they were, those two hens, the day before yesterday!

“Go on children, it's time”, she said towards midnight, “And be careful on the way. Where I go, you go too. Keep together behind my tail. And not a word! And look carefully at the way so you will remember it.”

They walked cautiously for quite a long time paying attention to the path. They went through bushes and took long ways round. Men have their own paths, the foxes have theirs as well.

In this way they reached the children's huts. They looked for nothing else in this city, neither light nor roads nor shops, they went straight to the henhouse.

Once again they found it open. The children hadn't counted the hens the day before yesterday and hadn't noticed that there were two missing.

And once again this evening there will be two more missing.

“Open your eyes, see how I do it” the fox said to the cubs.

She swooped down on a hen and sunk her teeth into its neck. After which she caught another. She brought one over then went back to get the other one.

The henhouse was turned upside down, but it was rather late. The poor hens were sleeping deeply. What dreams were they having?

Unfortunate hen with your collar, yellow like the villager's scarf! Poor crested cock from the Small Village.

On the trunk of a fallen tree, the fox rests after the hunt and says to her cubs: “The best community is the one without a dog”.