A Legacy of Land, Water, and Purpose
The name Fox Ledge was first immortalized in Guido D’Agostino’s 1942 book, The Barking of the Lonely Fox. He used it to describe the land surrounding a natural spring in Northern Wayne County, Pennsylvania—land that remained untouched, wild, and pure for generations.
It wasn’t until two generations later that Guido’s great-nephew saw the opportunity to share this treasure with the world. With deep respect for the land and its legacy, he founded Fox Ledge Spring Water in 1994, bottling the same cold, clear water that had nourished the D’Agostino family for decades. What began as a personal sanctuary evolved into a trusted source of pure spring water for homes and businesses across the region.

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The Words of Guido D’Agostino
The soul of this land, in his own words:
“Three miles in on a dirt road, in spring the wheels of the jeep sank in mud to the hubs. Winter brought eight-foot drifts of snow across the road, and it was days before the plow came through. No electricity. Water from a hand pump on a shallow well in use for almost a century.
There was a view over the hills and along a valley that went on forever—three hundred acres of brush, timber, and overgrown meadows bordering fifteen thousand acres of State Game Lands. Deer peered in through the windows. Porcupines chewed the clapboards. Foxes barked in constant lament.
Turkeys gobbled. Startled grouse sounded like the whir of an airplane through the majestic hemlocks. Down in the stream that bisected the property, the speckled trout had meat as pink and flavorful as salmon.
There was that wonderful gushing spring in the woods where my wife planted watercress. She spent hours moving stones, building little dams, and shifting the stream’s course. Ice-cold water that I eventually piped half a mile uphill to the farm—ramming its way upward, never stopping, winter or summer, for 30 years—supplying fresh, clear water to everything we did.
I gravitated between the life of a writer, a construction man, a farmer—trying to understand the people and nature of this country we had become part of. We worked. We hunted. We fished. We planned. The farm wove itself into the pattern of the lives of everyone who knew us.”