He scratches with all his might. The baby can't escape the grabbing hands. He tries to grab onto the insides of his home, the floor, the walls, the ceiling, but to no avail. He's torn away from his mother and his siblings and out into the open. It's a matter of seconds from when he sees the drooling fangs in front of him to when he is torn to shreds, screaming in pain and killed, by a pack of bloodthirsty hounds. What had this baby fox cub done to deserve this? The hunters laugh at their succ