The Fox. An Appreciation.
Scientific info? Life expectancy data or Latin name? Not going to get much here (oh ok, Vulpes vulpes if you insist!). I’m just here to give the fox his props. Just a glance at the fox then you could say. Because as you’ve no doubt noticed – when you look at a fox – he’s looks back, decides you’re trouble and legs it.
I’m talking here of course from a ‘townie’ perspective. That’s right, I ain’t no country dwelling fox-killer (little bit of politics there). I’m urban. I’m street. I’m ghetto – and so, people, is the modern fox.
Adaptable as heck is the fox. He works that cute angle when it’s needed, frolicking in auntie’s garden and nibbling her titbits that she leaves out – but when it comes down to it, the fox has got city life down.
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Why is the fox so neat? Well – the biggest age old poser for the urban animal fan is usually cat vs. dog. Why choose? I dislike both to be honest – and get the best of both worlds by choosing the fox. And the bonus is, I don’t have to live with the critter. Cats are weird, we all know that – they stare you out and pretend to hear burglars when it’s dark just to freak you out. Dogs just act nuts even if they are trained. I dig that stupidity if I’m honest, the vacant look from a dog is top and the comedy head out of the car window in the wind is an evergreen – but they do muck up the place and demand attention – and besides this is a website for the slightly ‘out there’ – so let’s move swiftly along and return to the fox. |
Looks like a cat, has that feline vibe, but barks. Now tell me that isn’t cool. Except the fox is sly, not cool. That’s if you believe tales. Of course the sly variety is male. Cunning and sneaky, whereas the female version is a positive attribute in terms of rep – Jimi Hendrix didn’t call his lady foxy for nothing you know.
Speaking of the female fox – another ‘did you know’ stat attack here – female foxes are known to grieve any loss of their young cubs (known as ‘keening’ dontchaknow).
I’m going to forget the farmers nonsense about chickens being terrorised – and I’m not that interested in the claims that “they attack lambs” (did you know they also eat fallen fruit? Maybe not – after all that hardly fits their murderous MO does it?). In my opinion that’s just an excuse to kill the thangs (and that is a bad thing, OK?). That’s also mainly the country cousin – and as I started out saying – I’m here to big up the sort of fella that lives in the city. Foxes definitely don’t build huts or gather up empty cardboard boxes (although an empty garden shed is most welcome thank you very much). No, this critter acts like it’s still native to green rolling hills and leafy woods by selecting him and his own a nice den in a garden – just as nature intended (unless a vacant cellar comes along first). But then comes the good bit – the city fox has worked out that staking out a coop for weeks until the guard dog turns the corner or has a night off is consummate madness. Especially when the colonel has caught cooked and boxed some up for you. A rummage in the bin and he’s got supper squared within minutes (note here that they do NOT ‘attack’ bins – that’s more likely to be a stray dog). The best bit though is the way the fox has mastered co-habitation with us upright types and decided to large it up even more. |
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Is there really anything as jazz as seeing a fox trip down your high street in broad daylight? Just what is he up to? Looking for food? Well a few hours until the sun sets isn’t that much of a chore – so unless he’s after first dibs in a potentially booty-full bin something else must be going on. Two theories from me. Firstly the fox has been out all night and is on his way home. Kinda like that feeling of leaving a party as the sun comes up and walking home smiling at the milkman who is just starting work. Been out lording it up and having fun (this is where you picture the fox in a top hat with a walking stick and his bow-tie undone – been gambling no doubt and drinking fine brandy into the wee smalls). Or then there is my second theory… he’s showing how at ease with us all he is – it’s his street as well goddamit! Out in the country he gets chased about by hounds and generally doesn’t have a good time. In the city – we love him. Even people who hate foxes don’t resort to dressing like idiots, ganging up on their pushbikes and chasing the fella about until he’s worn out and lost.
They also do that cool thing where two meet up and just hang together. I spend a lot of time sitting up when most are asleep – it’s a mystical time and it’s serene yet edgy (in a city at least). I see foxes hanging about a fair bit. It’s probably lack of sleep – but I swear they stand on my street corner waiting for me to come out for a bowl about in the night. Like your mates used to when you first became old enough to go out without your Mum telling you when you had to be in.
I’m sure we are not far off seeing foxes hide behind bus stops waiting for the breadman to drop his loaves off at the corner shop before they pounce and steal some buns and run off laughing.
So, that’s the case for the fox. I’m saying he’s cooler than a cat and more of a hound than the dog. Put it this way – do you know anyone else that can make being ginger so groovy? Thought not.
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www.foxes.org |
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Marc Jones
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