to the Old Pasture. The Old Pasture is very different from the
Green Meadows or the Green Forest. Yes, indeed, it is very, very
different. Reddy Fox thought so. And Reddy didn't like the change,
-- not a bit. All about were great rocks, and around and over them
grew bushes and young trees and bull-briars with long ugly thorns,
and blackberry and raspberry canes that seemed to have a million
little hooked hands, reaching to catch in and tear his red coat and
to scratch his face and hands. There were little open places where
wild-eyed young cattle fed on the short grass. They had made many
little paths all crisscross among the bushes, and when you tried to
follow one of these paths you never could tell where you were coming
out.

No, Reddy Fox did not like the Old Pasture at all. There was no long,
soft green grass to lie down in. And it was lonesome up there.
He missed the little people of the Green Meadows and the Green Forest.
There was no one to bully and tease. And it was such a long, long
way from Farmer Brown's henyard that old Granny Fox wouldn't even
try to bring him a fat hen. At least, that's what she told Reddy.

The truth is, wise old Granny Fox knew that the very best thing she
could do was to stay away from Farmer Brown's for a long time. She
knew that Reddy couldn't go down there, because he was still too lame
and sore to travel such a long way, and she hoped that by the time
Reddy was well enough to go, he would have learned better than to do
such a foolish thing as to try to show off by stealing a chicken in
broad daylight, as he had when he brought all this trouble on them.

Down on the Green Meadows, the home of Granny and Reddy Fox had been
on a little knoll, which you know is a little low hill, right where