 Index of all threads 
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1. Ken E. with three foxes. "I had spotted two foxes mousing out in a large field. There was a creek running to the south of them that I thought I could use to get closer. As I was making my approach, I spotted another fox on a snowbank in the creek valley. I bagged him. Unfortunately, when I popped up to see where the other two foxes were, I couldn't. So I took this first fox back to the vehicle and drove to the location where I had spotted the original two. There they were. I hadn't realized it, but there was a slight ridge of windblown snow and the foxes were concealed behind it such that they were not visible from the creek. Now they were sleeping. So I made a belly-crawl approach across the field. I was dressed all in white and was able to get within about 150 yards before shooting. At the first shot, the fox I was aiming at got up and ran. He was hit, but didn't show any sign. The other fox followed, but stopped after about 25 yards and looked around. Big mistake. I dropped him and then swung back onto the first fox, which, by then, had also stopped. The next shot put him down for keeps. They had no idea that I was there. All three foxes were within about 500 yards of one another. Gerry K. may like to know that this area is near where he lives. On my best single day scouting in this area I counted 38 or 39 foxes. On another day, in one stretch, I counted ten foxes and one coyote in four kilometers. Within a kilometer of the area in this picture I once counted seven foxes from a single vantagepoint. But here's a question for y'all: The foxes in this area wouldn't call worth a damn. How come? I don't know the answer. By-the-way, the rifle is my Browning-based Middlestead with a 6.5 to 20 Leupold. Fifty-five grain Nolser ballistic tips were very flat shooting and performed admirably."