Fantastic Mr. Fox: Fantastic Mr. Fox

This was because he ate three boiled chickens smothered with dumplings every day for breakfast, lunch and supper.

“My dear Bunce, I’ve already found it,” said the crafty Bean.

But Mr. Fox would not have been quite so cocky had he known exactly where the three farmers were waiting at that moment.

He found none, and he was just about to go trotting forward into the wood when he heard or thought he heard a tiny noise, a soft rustling sound, as though someone had moved a foot ever so gently through a patch of dry leaves.

“I reckon there’s a whole family of them down that hole,” Bunce said.

Down the hole, Mrs. Fox was tenderly licking the stump of Mr. Fox’s tail to stop the bleeding.

“It will never grow again,” said Mr. Fox. “I shall be tail-less for the rest of my life.” He looked very glum.

The fat Boggis was hopping about like a dervish and shouting, “Faster! Faster!”

The people jeered and laughed.

But this only made the three farmers more furious and more obstinate and more determined than ever not to give up until they had caught the fox.

Whereupon the three men all shook hands with one another and swore a solemn oath that they would not go back to their farms until the fox was caught.

The rich scent of chicken wafted down the tunnel to where the foxes were crouching.

He pulled himself up through the gap in the floor and started prancing and dancing with joy.

They were in a huge shed and the whole place was teeming with chickens.

“My son,” he said, giving the three plump hens to the biggest of his four small children, “run back with these to your mother. Tell her to prepare a feast. Tell her the rest of us will be along in a jiffy, as soon as we have made a few other little arrangements.”

And up above, dangling from the rafters, there must have been at least a hundred smoked hams and fifty sides of bacon!

“Just feast your eyes on that!” cried Mr. Fox, dancing up and down. “What d’you think of it, eh? Pretty good grub!”

Suddenly, as though springs had been released in their legs, the three hungry Small Foxes and the ravenously hungry Badger sprang forward to grab the luscious food.

“We mustn’t overdo it,” he said. “Mustn’t give the game away. Mustn’t let them know what we’ve been up to. We must be neat and tidy and take just a few of the choicest morsels. So, to start with we shall have four plump young ducks.”

“You are far too respectable,” said Mr. Fox.

“You saucy beast!” said Mr. Fox.

“You’re poaching!” shrieked Rat.

“What an impudent fellow Rat is.”

There was only the sound of crunching and chewing as the animals attacked the succulent food.

“The brute must be famished,” Bunce said.