There were chickens in the street, the smell of the sea out over Canarsie, candy shops and tenements, hot spiced corned beef in the delis, and briny half-sour pickles at the Jewish market–farms and saltwater.
Thus, if Mr Boggis was hiding behind his Chicken House Number One, Mr Fox would smell him out from fifty yards off and quickly change direction, heading for Chicken House Number Four at the other end of the farm.