by Lisa Epple
Our subdivision is named for them, with a large and colorful sign showing a red fox clearing a fence at full stretch, prominently placed amongst
the ornamental trees and shrubs at the entrance. All the streets have some variation of “fox” in their names. But foxes have become a rare sight in our rural Virginia neighborhood. Perhaps there are too many houses now, with too many pet dogs allowed to roam. Numerous trees have been felled over the years, and much underbrush cut back, leaving fewer comfy places to hide and sleep. Their status as a vector species for certain diseases has made them unwelcome visitors in some of our neighbors’ yards, but we enjoy the foxes from a distance and count ourselves fortunate when these charming little animals appear in our part of the forest.
A healthy red fox is a handsome creature, with lovely fur most commonly a shade of reddish-brown or orange-red, a luxuriously bushy tail usually tipped with white, and a pointy little face with triangular pricked ears. The fox who bounded into our backyard one late autumn day not long ago was a wonderful example of his kind. Bright chestnut with a snowy white chest and narrow white blaze on his face, with a long fluffy tail ending in a prominent tuft of white, he was gorgeous and he knew it. Whenever we saw him, he was always grooming himself, one delicate paw at a time. The Fantastic Mr. Fox, indeed!
On a cold but sunny afternoon, he took a break from all that preening to have some fun. He spent a couple of leisurely hours playing with a large bone, happily tossing it up into the air and rolling it around in the short yellow-brown grass. We became bored watching this game long before the fox became bored playing it. He was careful to take his toy with him when he left.
Sadly, that was also the year we had two other foxy visitors who were clearly ill with mange. They were a pitiful sight. The foxes would sit out in the open in broad daylight and pull big tufts of fur out of their tails with their teeth. There was nothing left beyond their hindquarters.
One of these poor creatures wandered around the yard looking for a comfortable spot to have an afternoon snooze. First, he tried a hollowed-out space beneath the spreading branches of an overgrown shrub. Too many gnarled roots poking up through the scanty soil cover, not very cozy. He looked around some more, glancing briefly at the holly bushes. Those sharp leaves on the low-hanging branches weren’t very inviting either. It was such a bitterly cold winter day but, surprisingly, he settled on a very exposed spot, making himself a bed in the decorative mulch across from my window. He curled up and took a long nap, with his eyes tightly closed and his little nose buried in what was left of his tail.
All three foxes disappeared shortly afterwards, and there were no new vulpine visitors to delight us for several seasons.
But as summer transitioned into autumn this year, a pair of foxes began regularly passing through our yard at dusk. They were similarly colored, a deep mahogany with black-tipped ears and long black stockings, but much different in build. One was smallish and scrawny with a thin tail and no white markings, while the other looked much better-fed, and had a nice bushy tail with a hint of white at the tip.
Their first post-sunset visit was very relaxed. The foxes laid down together in the grass and just lounged around for a while, stretching and yawning. As the shadows lengthened, they made their meandering way across the lawn with light and bouncy steps, investigating every twig and leaf in their path with comical concentration.
Days later, we discovered the pair in an early morning wrestling match. They were under the trees in the front yard, rolling each other over and over in the fallen leaves. They also practiced their pouncing skills, taking turns jumping on and over each other. We didn’t like to disturb their play, but we had places to go, and the sound of the garage door opening sent them streaking off into the woods.
These foxes reminded us of another autumn day here, many years ago. We were still experimenting with how to manage the leaf litter that gathers under the trees which screen our property from the road. We stretched a low-profile black tarp across most of the yard – leaf fencing instead of snow fencing. It was an ugly solution, and soon became ragged. But several foxes weren’t deterred by the unsightliness, and used it for a morning’s entertainment. They played peek-a-boo across the top of the tarp, putting their little paws up high and slyly popping their heads over to the opposite side to scare each other. They also enjoyed simply jumping back and forth over the makeshift fence. It looked like a lot of fun.
The late autumn winds have blown the trees bare now, and the once-colorful leaves covering the ground beneath them have turned brown and crispy. The grass is dry and rough, and a tired-looking yellow. The last of the unseasonably warm afternoons, with their heavens of brilliant blue decorated with cottony white clouds, have lately given way to ever shorter and colder ones under dull, whitish-gray skies. Winter is slowly settling over our part of the world. We hope our foxy friends will continue to visit us and help brighten the days ahead.
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photo credit: Prazanthy Ramesh, Unsplash
Lisa Epple is a refugee from Wall Street and suburban New York, living in semi-peaceful exile in rural Virginia, surrounded by deer and assorted other woodland creatures. She enjoys observing and writing about the wildlife that visits her backyard. This is her first published piece.