The foxes came from every
direction and met at the foot of an old oak.
Reynard's den was under this oak. He sat upon his haunches near
the door to welcome his guests as they came, but he did not move.
"You all know, friends, why I do not rise to welcome you," he
said. "I have been very sick, and if I move about it gives me a
very bad headache."
Reynard asked his friends, who were standing around him, what they
had been doing for the last week or so. They told many interesting
stories of how they had escaped from traps and dogs and men.
A pile of chickens, turkeys, and ducks lay in sight not far away.
As they talked, their eyes often wandered to these.
It grew late. The company became a little restless. At last
Reynard said:
"Now, friends, before we take our evening meal, I have something
to say for the good of all of us.
"I have been lying awake nights thinking what we could do to free
ourselves from the weight of our heavy tails. Spring is here with
its rainy weather. You all know how wet and muddy our tails
become. Often I have had to give up a first-class meal and trot
off home, hungry, to stay until my tail had dried. You have had to
do the same. Many a poor fox has lost his life because of his long
tail.
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