Democratic Sentinel, Volume 22, Number 9, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 March 1898 — FOX’S HOME ON A HOTEL ROOF. [ARTICLE]

FOX’S HOME ON A HOTEL ROOF.

Object of Much Interest to the Guests of the Boston Tavern. High up on thej’oof of the Boston Tavern, 100 feet and more from the pavement, lives a little gray fox that has spent nearly her whole life w’ith the smoke of the Chimneys blowing about her and the roar from the streets of the city tilling her ears day and night. Taken as a cub from her native woods of Maine, she has grown up with the slated roof of the tavern as her world, and with Tom, the porter, who takes care of her, as her only companion. Originally there were two of the cubs. They were taken by a gentleman who was on a fishing expedition on the Bonnie River last June and sent as a present to one of the guests in the hotel, who, not caring about keeping them, gave them to Mr. Clark, the proprietor of the tavern. Mr. Clark had a place made for them on the roof, where there is plenty of room to run about, but a short time after they came one of them became frightened, jumped from the parapet and was killed. The other, taking warning by the fate of her comrade, was more careful, and has gradually become moderately tame. She will eat from the hand of the porter, and when he is alone will come to him when called, although she will not allow him to handle her at all. The moment any strangers appear on the roof, however, she is off to the furthest corner and will keep the whole width of the roof between herself and them as long as they remain in sight. Her lot is not an unpleasant one for an animal in captivity, for she has the whole roof to range over and is seldom disturbed. The roof has only a slight slope. It is a smooth, slated surface, surrounded by a high parapet and broken by numerous chimneys and by the light well and skylights, which rise in the center of it. The fox has the run of the whole of it and explores every part, people in the near-by buildings being sometimes startled by the sight of a fox running about on the roof of a hotel in the heart of the city. In the corner she has a box tilled with earth, where she crawls when she wants to go to sleep, scooping out a round hole with her paws and nestling down into it, curled up in a little ball. Tom feeds her on chickens and lettuce, so that she has no need to complain of her fare. She is fond of mint, delighting to roll in it and scratch in it with her paws, although she does not eat it. She has been and is an object of a good deal of interest to the guests of the hotel, but, as has been said, she does not reciprocate any attention shown her, crouching behind some chimney or skylight, watching the visitor with bright eyes and with ears pricked up until he goes down again.—Boston Evening Transcript.