|
|
FAQ
|
Blog records prior to July 2006 Pre-February 2006 "Yiap! Yiap! Yiap!" "There she goes again." "Yiap! Yiap! Yiap!" Most vixens bark to warn their cubs of danger. But none like this vixen. She stressed, worried and panicked, the vulpine equivalent of the Very Worried Sparrow, the archetypical over-protective mother. All summer, it was the same. "Yiap! Yiap! Yiap!" At least once a day, like a lighthouse warning of impending fog, she sounded off. What it was that caused her to panic so, I could never be sure. "Junior, stay away from that bird feeder! Look out for that squirrel! What are you doing with that golf ball?" Of course, there are many hazards that foxes face in their daily lives, some natural, some accidentally caused by human attempts to develop the planet, and some downright malicious. Cars, cats and chemicals are risks foxes involuntarily take almost everywhere these days, even where they are not hunted, shot or snared. Nevertheless, as far as the UK goes, these foxes had a good, solid territory, part garden, part woodland, part fox-friendly farm. Four of the five cubs she bore survived to adolescence. I only saw her properly once. She was in my neighbour's garden, where her cubs were congregated. She sometimes whisked across the top of our garden, like a thin orange ghost bent on an errand of utmost urgency, but she preferred next door. It probably wasn't a coincidence that her peace-loving mate, who we would come to know as the Old Dogfox, was generally found in ours. Even on that afternoon, I did not see her clearly enough to remember her face. But I do know that, once again, she yapped. All the cubs completely ignored her. By autumn, she had disappeared. She was probably displaced by other vixens. That is not uncommon. The first fox I really got to know was expelled by her own daughter, and promptly turned up on a nearby farm. In the Vocal Vixen's case, it could have been any of the three new vixens that caused her to leave. One was stocky and short-legged. The other two were unsurpassed in their beauty, with snow-white chests and rich orange coats. Then events took an unexpected turn. In December, the Old Dogfox started losing hair on his back. The stocky vixen suffered severe fur loss. Mange is a dreadful disease which is still poorly understood. We are told in textbooks that it is contagious, but Takahe mated with the Old Dogfox and still didn't catch it. Is it even native to the UK? It was deliberately introduced to North America by callous government officials trying to kill wolves. What's the history of mange here? No one seems to know. We broke our rule of not feeding foxes to give the Old Dogfox the homeopathic remedy supplied by a well known fox charity. It didn't work. In the end, we contacted another charity. Catching the Old Dogfox for in-hospital treatment was not an option, because the huge Interloper had arrived. If the Old Dogfox was removed, it was clear he would lose his territory to the intruder. Mange is usually treated by three doses of a drug which kills the mites. The drug is dangerous for lactating vixens and some dog breeds, so our decision to give it to the Old Dogfox was somewhat fraught with nerves. However, he would have died without it, and the charity gave us the drug. We knew we could make sure that only the Old Dogfox ate the medicine, but that still required him to turn up on the required night for three weeks in a row. Miraculously, he did. Then it was time to deal with the stocky vixen who was now suffering serious hair loss across her shoulders and face. Unlike the Old Dogfox, she came too irregularly for us to treat her in the wild. The charity lent us a cagetrap. To start with, the ill vixen didn't come, and we caught a healthy vixen instead. Then the Old Dogfox, was caught. We duly let him out, unaware that the drama was only just starting. The infected vixen finally showed up some days later. Just as she was about to go in, the Ginger Vixen launched an unprovoked attack on her, driving her viciously out of the garden. The next night, the ill vixen came again, running after the Old Dogfox like a puppy desperate for an owner. He went back inside the trap but didn't spring the door. She bounded up behind him, trying to join him in there. He jumped at the sight of her and promptly tripped the mechanism, catching himself for the second time. So it went on. The Interloper even climbed on top of the cage; the Ginger Vixen, for all her cunning, did eventually trap herself, and the ill vixen went in only for the door to be too frozen to close on her. Finally, after two weeks of stress, we caught her. I renamed her the "Survivor Vixen" and she was carried off to a wildlife hospital for lifesaving treatment. 12th February 2006: New Beginnings It's a cold, wet, February morning. The rain is dripping from the window panes and turning the garden into a muddy bog. There's no sign of a fox anywhere. On a sunny day, they might be dozing on the lawn even in daylight, but I imagine that right now they're curled up in hollows at the base of trees, under sheds, in fact, anywhere where they can find shelter and warmth. It would be a hungry fox indeed to stray abroad on a day like today. Over the past few years, I've seen these foxes almost every day and got to know them a bit as individuals. I know the Old Dogfox prefers to be by himself and that the Ginger Vixen has a special spot under the conifer tree for sitting. But I don't know what the next year in their lives will bring. There's so many unanswered questions right now. Will the Survivor Vixen, currently in a wildlife hospital, recover from mange and be returned to the wild? Will the huge Interloper (an intruding fox who, uninvited, has made himself at home) drive away the Old Dogfox and become the most dominant fox? One vixen is currently pregnant--how many cubs will she have, and will they survive? Nothing in the wild is predictable, especially when it involves foxes. But keep checking this blog for news on these amazing, so badly misunderstood creatures, and see what the year brings forth. 23rd February 2006: Snowbathing
Perhaps it's global warming starting to bite, but we've hardly had any snow at all this winter. Towards the end of February, the crocuses burst in bloom and the woods became alive with the songs of robins and great tits. Then, as if springing a shock to make up for its tardiness, the snow hit. The Ginger Vixen is probably eleven months old. This is the first real snow that she has ever seen. She arrived as usual with the Old Dogfox (he must have felt the cold with the bare patches on his back where he is still recovering from mange) and found her way to her second favourite spot - on the mound. (Under the conifer tree still seems to rank as number one in her mind.)
For about a minute she rolled about in the snow, leaving a noticeable hollow. She was wet with snow when she finished. There's a lot still to be learned about fox behaviour. I saw her rolling in the grass earlier in the year when she was courting the Old Dogfox. Was this more of the same? Or perhaps, in her inexperience, she was trying to get her scent on this strange new surface. Or maybe she was just having fun. One fox definitely trying to amuse itself has been visiting the front of the house. On one recent night, we left a leash from one of our two dogs on the front porch. This is somewhat unwise when foxes are about. On this occasion, whoever took it just left it in the front garden, apparently tiring of playing with this new trophy. But I lost one lead altogether some years ago. The shoes on the front porch should beware. 6th March 2006: News From Hospital Almost two months ago, we live-trapped a vixen dying from mange and watched as she was taken off by a volunteer for London Wildcare. Finally, after an anxious wait, we have news of her condition! She has made a stellar recovery and has been moved from an indoor pen to an outdoor enclosure. In about a week's time, she will be re-released into the garden to resume her wild life. Hopefully, I will be able to get some photos and perhaps even some movie footage of this long-awaited event. 12th March 2006: Day of the Fox
Some years ago I went to Algonquin Provincial Park, Ontario, in November. As any Canadian will tell you, this is not prime camping season. Ice was forming on Mew Lake and I ended up sleeping in four layers of clothing. Not surprisingly, this magnificent wilderness - so crowded in summer - was almost deserted. In fact, we saw one other group during our entire stay! What we did see were foxes, including the one in the picture. Foxes were walking the hiking trails. Foxes were sitting in the campgrounds. Foxes were standing by the roads. The forest seemed to have been taken over by foxes. And, for the most part, they were busy living their lives during the day. Unlike, say, badgers, foxes do seem to really prefer sunny mornings to bitter nights. It's only when humans persecute or disturb them that they switch to a colder, night time existence. No UK fox is as remote from people as the Algonquin ones, but even so, in my relatively safe village, I often see them resting in the sunshine on a bright morning. Today is a little different as it is overcast and gloomy, but the Old Dogfox paid us a visit at 8am to drink from the stream. He also nibbled a branch that was apparently annoying him. I'm slightly concerned because he's still walking painfully and his back looks somewhat raw. If his mange has returned, we may have to live-trap him for treatment. That would be very disruptive when the vixen should be depending upon him providing food for her and her newborn cubs. Let's hope he's not going to need any more intervention. 12th March 2006: Born Free, Walk Free
On Sunday evening, two volunteers from London Wildcare arrived at our house with a mesh carrying cage, rather like a rabbit hutch. Inside was a little vixen with a pointed face and tufts of fur missing - a vixen we last saw being ferried out of the wild for lifesaving mange treatment. We brought her to the back garden, close to the spot where she was captured in a cage-trap last January. The Ginger Vixen had been sitting under her conifer tree but fled as we approached. What she was thinking about humans carrying a rival home, I wouldn't like to guess. Then the moment came. The cage roof was flipped open. The vixen flew out in a single bound, and raced off into the night. One job well done. Special thanks to London Wildcare - a truly worthwhile charity for anyone in South-east England to support. 27th March 2006: Major News Roundup Well, there's so much news I hardly know where to start. Let's begin with the Interloper. He arrived unexpectedly to a chorus of yelps approximately ten days ago, and sat down as usual on the mound. At first glance, he looked fine, but when I photographed him it became apparent that his left eye was very red and swollen. I'll spare you the pictures but it was clearly a nasty injury. Scratched by a cat, or even another fox? That's the most likely explanation, although I suppose that in theory he could have injured himself on a hedge or been hit by a car. Many pet owners are in denial over the damage cats can do to wildlife, but it's a fact that hundreds of UK foxes have been killed by cats. Anyone who doubts that should call a wildlife hospital and see the evidence. Regardless, he looked in danger of infection. As he comes so irregularly, giving him antibiotics would have been nearly impossible. However, tonight he has returned and the swelling has greatly decreased of its own accord. But his left eye is completely blinded. The most astonishing thing was that he was present with the Old Dogfox, whom hitherto has been fighting him for the territory. The Interloper showed clear submission by crouching low and flattening his ears. It may well be that his injury has switched the balance of power permanently in the older fox's favour. As for the Survivor Vixen, she's doing fine. We see her about every other day. Tonight she was grooming the Ginger Vixen, nibbling her ears and back. If she was hoping for the proverbial "you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" she should have tried a less aloof fox. The Ginger Vixen didn't do any reciprocal nibbling, and in the end bared her teeth at the Survivor Vixen in obvious annoyance. The Ginger Vixen herself gave me a shock last week. I glanced out the back door to see her perched atop of the hedgerow, a good five feet above the ground. She was curled up in a ball like a cat. I've seen foxes sleep under hedges too many times to count, but on top? Does she know what species she is? 28th March 2006: New Vixen Sighted! There appears to be a new vixen on the block. Yesterday afternoon, in broad daylight, a lithe, almost borzoi-shaped fox trotted silently into the garden, drank from the stream, and trotted off again. Her head was sharply pointed and her colour light red, but what immediately stood out was her brush. She had a kind of flame orange feathering down each side of her tail, giving her an oddly tropical look. Many British foxes have a grey sheen over their backs. She didn't have that and in fact looked more like one of those picture-perfect American foxes! Anyway, she was probably just visiting. If she returns, I'll try to get a photo and hopefully think up a name for her. Something North American would be fitting. 8th April 2006: Top Fox
Like, the top of a shed roof... I reported in my entry of 27th March that she curled up atop a hedge - curiously, that was also in inclement weather. Our shed roof is heavily overgrown with clematis and presumably is soft and comfortable, at least to a fox used to sleeping on bare earth. I opened my curtains this morning to see her tightly curled up on the shed. I managed to get a picture by using manual focus through the window. It would have been better if I could have opened the window, of course, but that would have scared her away. Foxes have unique views on how to use everything they encounter. It never occurred to me that the shed was also a passable bed. A glimpse of sorts into the mind of a fox. 17th April 2006: Riot Zone! There is a side to foxes which is mysterious, unpredictable and intangibly feline. The "Cat-like Canine", as they are often called, is happy about sitting on shed roofs perched six feet above the ground, as the Ginger Vixen has been showing us recently. Never in a lifetime of observing foxes have I seen their other side - the Dog side - burst forth in such riotous exuberance as has been the case this week. Never have I seen four (count 'em) adult foxes playing tag. Never have I seen a low ranking vixen (the Survivor Vixen, no less) be virtually manhandled into play by the top fox, the Ginger Vixen, and end up tossing a tennis ball about and leaping over the daffodils onto her erstwhile tormenter like a kitten spying a promising mouse. Nor, for that matter, have I seen the Old Dogfox leap onto a pile of upside down turf, and then allow himself to be chased backwards and forwards all over the garden (and the neighbour's garden). He is not a lively fox. He prefers to sit still, or, better, sleep in the sunshine. But the Ginger Vixen has been outside of herself this past week. It's very rare to see wild foxes group play like this. And it is, pure and simple play. The Ginger Vixen dances about with her mouth half open, which means "I'm playing" in virtually all mammals. If you have a dog, you'll have noticed him keeping his mouth slightly open in the same way when he's playing. Even people sometimes do it! Usually when playing with small children. So what exactly have the foxes been doing? Some highlights:
It's so interesting to watch their body language through all of this. They tend to hold their tails straight out, or even straight up in the case of the Survivor Vixen who still has almost no fur on her tail (except for an enormous white tip!) which may also be signalling play. The most astonishing things, though, are the speed at which they're running (definitely faster than an average dog - who would guess from the classic fox pose of sleeping in the sun?) and the dog-like way in which they're carrying themselves. I wouldn't be surprised to see wolves pawing at each other and running playmates down, as that's more or less how they hunt. Capturing a sibling in a wolf pack is useful practice for hunting moose. But foxes have absolutely no pack hunting instincts. Scientists would say that it still has a survival function, as play helps sort out social hierarchies without the risks of actual fighting. At my university, some lecturers refused to accept that animals are capable of any behaviour that does not ultimately assist their survival. In general, that's true, as the wild is not an easy place to make a living and natural selection will obviously favour individuals who focus on feeding, acquiring mates, and other essentials. But I think extrapolating that to the whole of animal behaviour is too extremist. From chimps dying from grief at the loss of a parent, to magpies sliding down snowbanks, there is a place in wildlife's behaviour repertoire for non-essential, purely emotional behaviour. Sometimes I wonder if people are just afraid to view animals as more than machines. 28th April 2006: Springshine
It seems the spring sunshine offers perfect respite to the melee of playfighting, wrestling, chasing, leaping and provoking that has dominated the foxes' time of late. This evening, the Old Dogfox was curled up under a conifer tree in my next door neighbour's garden, seemingly without a care in the world. Almost every time I see a fox who is actually asleep, it's snuggled up in a ball, rather than lying on its side. They are certainly less vulnerable to any untoward creatures without their underside exposed, but maybe this behaviour just prevents them from losing too much heat as they sleep. But are they still playing so wildly? Possibly, after dark. I'm experimenting with a webcam to record their garden visits throughout the night, and although the image quality could be better, it should provide some insight into their movements. One unusual point - the Survivor Vixen has noticeable by her absence in the last few days. Is she avoiding the Ginger Vixen, or simply preoccupied elsewhere? 28th April 2006: Hot off the Press
2nd May 2006: Studies in Sleeping
Yesterday was May Day, the DIY day, IKEA day, dancing around maypoles... However, foxes are above all such trifles. And in contrast to tradition, this bank holiday has been remarkably sunny. The magnetic effect of sunshine on foxes resulted in me seeing all three regulars during broad daylight yesterday. Curiously, they were not together. The Ginger Vixen settled herself in my garden, while I briefly spied the Survivor Vixen racing madly across a nearby meadow. This was at the heady hour of ten past two in the afternoon, and adds weight to my suspicion that she never sleeps. She is a madcap bundle of energy.
You can see some of his tufts when he is lying fully on his side. He has almost finished moulting into his summer coat, but a few clumps of winter fur remain. I don't think that we humans can fully appreciate what it must be like to lose and replace all your hair in the space of a few weeks. The Old Dogfox has been manually pulling clumps out. Amazingly, this excess fur is not going to waste. I've seen a great tit picking up the fur - it will be used to line the tit's nest. Who knows, perhaps soon I will see great tit fledglings that grew up nestled in the Old Dogfox's fur! 5th May 2006: To Catch a Thief Something mysterious is afoot with our dog toys. Under the cover of darkness, they are being ferried out of the garden to an unknown fate. Our "puppy" (if she can be called that - as a nine month old Leonberger, she already weighs around seven stone) has a mildly obsessive tendency to take nylabones, balls and other chews out of doors. She has access to the patio area and side alley, which are fenced off in an attempt to keep the Dog Kingdom and the Fox Kingdom apart. The dogs, do, indeed, stay their side of the fence, but foxes respect no borders. In fact, the puppy has inadvertently assisted them by digging an ever growing hole under one of the fences, and although she'd barely manage to get her head inside it, the foxes have taken to this new entry point like it was built for them on purpose. So what about the toys? One by one, they're vanishing. I'm not sure who the culprit is, but since the Ginger Vixen instigated most of the playing last month she has to be the prime suspect. I can hardly imagine a more comical sight than a fox trying to chew a giant sized nylabone longer than its own head. Nevertheless, in the interest of scientific research, I'd like to see who is responsible. I plan to hitch up the webcam in front of some (probably cheap!) toys. Then we will find out who it is who cannot resist the temptation. 8th May 2006: The Usual Suspect
I suggested earlier in the week that the Ginger Vixen was the prime suspect. She promptly reinforced my suspicions by displaying excessive interest in one of the stolen toys, here visible by her forelegs. I did not actually see her extract the toy from its rightful resting place, but I take this as anecdotal evidence towards her guilt. However, of much greater interest to me is that this photo shows her breasts heavily swollen with milk. If she does have a litter, she is spending extraordinarily little time with them - both she and the Old Dogfox are to be found in our garden for several hours each day. It's also hard to imagine a vixen who has recently given birth playing so vigorously. Then again, the Ginger Vixen does not heed any rules about traditional behaviour. Any pups would have been born in March and are due to be weaned about now. In theory, she should be virtually confined to the den area with them, and the Old Dogfox should be providing her with food. (For the record, he's spent the whole of today asleep curled up under a conifer tree.) If pups do exist, she is either more bold than most vixens about leaving them or the den is close enough to the garden not to worry her. Of course, there is a third possibility - that she simply wants some respite. Last summer, I watched a family of wild Tweed wolves (red wolf / coyote hybrids) in the eastern US. Their pack rendezvous site was in a hay meadow. The adult wolves spent as much of the day as possible asleep atop hay bales, while the pups rampaged below. Pups look cute. However, they possess sharp teeth, appalling manners, and zero respect for ears and tails. I'll keep a close watch on the Ginger Vixen from now on and see if I can solve this mystery. 11th May 2006: Sleepless in Sunshine
It is almost a given that the Old Dogfox will pay us a visit on such a bright morning. He did not stay long - he sniffed at our artificial stream, perhaps wondering why the water level is so low at the moment. Of little consequence to him is that we have dozens of tadpoles in our pond at present, and we have abandoned the pump that feeds water from the pond to the stream head in case tadpoles be accidentally sucked in. All the foxes - and indeed the birds - actively choose the running water of the stream over the pond. I suppose that, in the wild, running water is less likely to harbour unpleasant disease-carrying microfauna. The pump will be reactivated once the tadpoles have matured enough.
When we captured her for mange treatment back in January, her back and face were almost bald. The re-growth of fur takes a long time, prolonged in her case by the spring moult. Her eyes are clear of the conjunctivitis that came with the mange and rendered her almost blind. All things considered, she is in fine condition. There's been no sign of the Ginger Vixen yet today. 11th May 2006: Then There Were Two
Last autumn, two virtual clones attended the garden. Two ginger vixens, as if made to order, almost identical not only in graceful, slender build but also in demeanour. Even their choice of places to sit in the garden was the same. They were clearly full sisters, pups of the year, most likely born to the noisy vixen whose voice we so often heard us last summer. But over time, the visits of one vixen became more infrequent. Eventually, she disappeared altogether. This coincided with the mange outbreak and I presumed her dead. Until tonight. She's back, dozing under the conifer tree as if she had never been away. In fact, I now realise that the fox I photographed on the 8th was her, rather than the Ginger Vixen proper. And the vixen who played so madly back in April was the bona fide, original Ginger Vixen. Tonight I had the luxury of seeing them together and the lactating one is slightly larger and has a much whiter chest. She is certainly quieter. While the real Ginger Vixen has been trying to solicit play again this evening, the newcomer just rested quietly. Her eyes kept closing, but she did not seem entirely comfortable with the rest of the family. At one point she flattened herself against the ground and gave a piercing warning scream at her sister, who was approaching too close. She also flattened her ears when the Old Dogfox entered the garden. The upshot is that we do indeed have a litter of pups this year. I have absolutely no idea where the earth (den) may be, and would not encroach upon it even if I did. However, it is likely that the adults will bring them to the garden when they are strong enough to travel. As for a name? Ironically, her summer coat is a much richer sheen of orange than that of her sister, but to save further confusion I will keep "Ginger Vixen" for the original one. Considering her appearance, disappearance and reappearance, I think I will call the lactating vixen Takahe, in honour of the pheasant-like New Zealand bird species that has been declared extinct three times - and promptly rediscovered on each occasion.
12th May 2006: Turf Wars Foxes take an unusual view of gardening. It is perhaps unreasonable to expect a wild species that has interacted with plants in its territory for thousands of millennia to suddenly understand that one particular bush, in one particular garden, is sacred and Must Not Be Touched. Foxes know nothing of freehold land agreements, cultivation of fruit, or indeed of the peculiarly human fondness for neat lawns. (For anyone who cannot abide some occasional untidiness, CJ Birdfoods offer a humane fox deterrent.) Our own garden is currently undergoing a makeover. The shade from the conifer trees stifles the grass and poor soil inhibits growth. We are in the process of putting slabs of turf down - in fact they can clearly be seen in the photograph of the two vixens in my previous post. I have been completely taken aback by the fascination the turf seems to hold for the foxes. The Riots of mid April included piles of turf being leapt over, dug up, guarded, and used a platform for playing King of the Castle. Since the turf has been laid, the foxes actively choose to rest upon it. To them, it is a springy natural bed. The Ginger Vixen, in particular, has been stretching herself out upon it. She has also been marking it with scats. The Old Dogfox has made several visits today. His coat is still very thin on his tail and rear quarters where his fur was denuded by mange. Maybe he will not fully recover until he moults into his winter coat at the end of the summer. 13th May 2006: Full Quintet What a strange sight yesternight beheld - a magically beautiful full moon rising, the thudding drone of a rock party wafting ungraciously through the trees, and five (yes, five) foxes ensconced in our garden, apparently trying to hide from the hideous noise. We rarely have to endure human gatherings of that nature in my quiet, old village. Even though the house responsible was about ten doors down the road, I could hear the racket in my room with the windows shut. To the foxes, with their ultra-sharp hearing designed to detect the slightest rustle of a mouse, it must have been overwhelming, not to mention excruciating. It cannot be a coincidence that all of them decided to spend the evening with us. The Old Dogfox came first, and spent most of the time curled up in a ball next to the daffodils. He was soon joined by the Ginger Vixen, who rolled about on the turf and gnawed at the conifer tree, as well as the Survivor Vixen. Even as all the others were resting, she was still active. She retreated to the back of the garden, where we do not mow the grass, and began a hunt, racing about while carefully following the movement of something by her feet. I'd guess that her target was a vole, although I do not think that she was successful because there was no pounce. However, the Ginger Vixen suddenly took an interest in her as she proceeded, and approached her aggressively, swishing her tail. A little while later, I looked out of a different window, and, to my surprise, noticed Takahe lying very quietly under a large bush close to the house. I suspect that she had been there for some time, but she did not draw attention to herself and did not interact with the other foxes. And what about number five? It was not the Interloper, but rather a fox whom to date I have not mentioned - chiefly because I'm not really sure what I can report. This fox took part in the games of mid April, and has briefly visited on one or two occasions since. It is quite large, and clearly fully accepted by the regulars (yesterday, the Old Dogfox went as far as licking its face) and yet plays no obvious role in the pack. Its coat is very thick and I cannot even be sure whether it is a male or female. I think I shall simply refer to it as Thickbrush for the time being, since that is just about its only distinctive physical feature.
14th May 2006: Brief Encounter "Thickbrush", the tall, quiet fox who has been lurking in the shadows, is becoming bolder. Tonight he (I think it is a dogfox, as it is larger than any of our vixens) entered the garden through the gap in the rear fence well before dark. What happened next was curious, in light of how casual relationships between him and the other foxes have seemed so far. The Old Dogfox and the Ginger Vixen were already present. The Ginger Vixen raced about him in a playful manner, but the Old Dogfox stood stock still, ears raised, tail straight, gazed locked on the newcomer. Thickbrush retreated. I have seen nothing that explains the Old Dogfox's switch from face-licking to threatening hostility in the space of 48 hours. It is possible that he was guarding a cache of food hidden somewhere in the garden. Away from the garden group, I saw my first cub of the year tonight. It was barely larger than a kitten, with outrageously huge ears. The mother was nuzzling it on a quiet woodland road. When she saw our car, she leapt into a hedgerow. After a few seconds, probably with a good deal of beckoning on behalf of the vixen, Junior followed. I got the impression that this was the precocious cub of the litter who had strayed into the big wild world a little sooner than he was supposed to have done so. 16th May 2006: The Quiet Ones
The latest encounter was not even in the garden. Yesterday morning I was walking my dog down a quiet country lane a few hundred yards behind our house when I became aware of a tall, thick-coated fox standing like a flame-coloured statue in the road ahead. Not wishing to alarm him, I stopped in my tracks. Yet he seemed remarkably reluctant to move. After about a half a minute of intense staring at me, he apparently lost nerve. He bolted into a horse paddock, hesitated again, then disappeared into a copse. I suspect that this copse is where Takahe has her pups, although whether that has any relevance to Thickbrush's behaviour is unclear.
Takahe herself (see photo) arrived yesterday evening. There is a haze of exhaustion over her - I was watching her through binoculars and her eyes kept shutting, just as they did on her lengthy visit on the 11th. I visited the Fox Project's cub rescue centre some years back, and the cubs were mind-bogglingly shattering. They climbed over everything, undid my shoe laces, leapt on any object that could pass for a toy - in fact they seemed to have the energy of ten dog puppies. Imagine what it must be like for a wild vixen raising five or six wild tearaways. 18th May 2006: Mudprints Bushcraft - reading the land - holds a unique allure. Pointing out the North Star or showing from flattened grass that a badger has recently passed by are skills sadly declining in our increasingly urbanised society. Tracking wildlife through reading their footprints ("pugmarks") is not an absolute art, however. Prints are almost never perfectly preserved. Dogs are a big problem, too - when their claws are clipped, their tracks resemble those of a cat, while small, long-clawed dogs leave footprints similar in size to those of a fox. A very large dog might, if its toes were spread out, trick you into thinking that its tracks are those of a small wolf. I've tracked wildlife with true experts in the field and to be honest, I am sceptical of anyone who thinks we can "prove" big cats are loose in the UK based purely on a single pugmark. So what can tracks tell us? With care, they can help show wildlife's movements, sometimes leading to unexpected conclusions. Some years ago, there were building works on farmland near our house, leading to a large mound of earth being deposited. Looking carefully, I saw fox tracks leading up its side to its summit! Tips for tracking: 1. Try to find areas with no dog walkers. 2. Buy a guide that shows you wildlife pugmarks life size. 3. Remember that the tracks almost certainly won't be as clear as the ones in the book. 4. Get to know as much as possible what wildlife is present to narrow down which tracks are possible. 5. If it's a toss up between two species, go with the most common one. 6. Fresh snow offers the best tracking surface. Be aware that tracks appear bigger in sand. Patches of fairly soft mud are also very good, but wet mud may cause the animal to slip and distort the tracks. For fox-tracking, look for round, cat-like tracks with four toes. Although hard to distinguish from small dogs like west highland terriers, a trained eye will notice that the toes sit closer together. 18th May 2006: Ginger Vixen Killed by Car This is truly awful. I have to report that the Ginger Vixen was killed at about 10:30 this morning while trying to cross the deathtrap of a road at the front of our house. Dozens of cars have passed by since then, few of whose occupants have even looked at her carcass. After all, who hasn't seen hundreds of dead foxes by the roadside? Just another dead fox. Yes, she is, in as much as that underscores what is truly lost each time a car collides with a wild animal. All the joy she has brought us, all her relationships with the other foxes, her influence on the ecosystem as a whole, her games with balls, sleeping on the shed roof - all extinguished in a moment. Her death is absolutely needless. As a society we have failed to take seriously the harm caused by roads. The death and suffering caused by our love affair with these machines is beyond all description. What possible benefit can there be from driving over the speed limit that can justify a scene like this? I do not know whether speed was a factor in her death, but it has caused many other accidents on my road, including one which killed two people. The limit is 30 mph for a reason; visibility is poor and two schools adjoin the road. I regularly see drivers screaming past at 60 mph, risking their lives and everyone else's. I fear for mine each time I cross that road. 20th May 2006: Anxieties It is now 48 hours since the Ginger Vixen was killed, although it seems far longer. My concern is now focussed on the Old Dogfox, because he is the only other member of the group who has developed an interest in crossing that treacherous road. Yesterday I saw him cross the end of our drive with a whole supermarket chicken. My fear is that the special needs residential centre opposite is feeding the foxes, either deliberately or through inappropriately stored rubbish. Some years ago, before we knew enough to keep cats indoors, we lost a much-loved cat who tried to visit the centre for a handout and did not survive the road. All the other regulars have visited the garden since the accident. Takahe spent most of yesterday evening with us. Perhaps we will see more of her now that her sister is gone. I was able to look at her closely and noticed that her face is quite different from the Ginger Vixen's - her eyes are much darker, a chestnut colour, for a start, and her head is very narrow and greyhound-like. The others were under the hedge yesterday, sheltering from the rain. It is good to see them, although worries continue, and the garden still feels somewhat emptier. 21st May 2006: Tapestry
We are told to think of ecosystems as a tapestry, with each thread symbolising a different species. For the garden fox group, stability over time produced a tapestry composed of the lives of foxes threaded together. Removing one thread, as has now happened with the Ginger Vixen's death, alters the composition. Already a new picture is emerging, for good or ill. I mentioned in the Story So Far that the breeding vixen of last year had four surviving pups. I now believe that all four were vixens and that all of them have, at some point, visited the garden. I found a photo of the mysterious "stocky vixen" before she contracted mange last year, and had a pleasant surprise. Now that the Survivor Vixen's fur has largely grown back, she is clearly identifiable as the same fox. I could not confirm that before due to the miserable state that she was in because of her disease. That is one question answered. The other three vixens are more difficult. Takahe is distinctive because she is lactating, but distinguishing the Ginger Vixen from the fourth fox was not at all easy. In fact, I can only now say for sure that a fourth vixen does use the garden because the Ginger Vixen is no longer here. I have dubbed this other vixen as the "Fringe Vixen", for two reasons. The first is that she has a fringe of white fur on her chest. The other is that she never once came when her sister was in the garden - otherwise, I would have been able to confirm her presence long ago. I suspect that, until recently, she was on the fringe of the pack. The other foxes do not seem comfortable with her. Tonight she had two confrontations with Takahe, swishing tails and flattened ears demonstrating mutual unease. But there was no clear victor. The Survivor Vixen was present with her last night, but I have not seen her at all today, which is unusual. The structure of the pack is changing. Patterns of visits may alter also. **** Thickbrush has been seen about once a day for the past week. I do now have an explanation for his somewhat odd behaviour towards the other foxes - he is clearly suffering from mange. At first I hoped his bald patches were nothing more than spring moult but his lower back is now red and raw. We will have to contact the rescue organisation that saved the Survivor Vixen and see what can be done. I hope that we do not have another round of trapping the foxes for treatment. 22nd May 2006: Circle of Life
A few weeks ago I commented on how the foxes were shedding their winter coats and that this was attracting the interest of small birds. We observed tits and a wren carrying the discarded fur away to use as nest lining. Yesterday, we found a whole nest
in the drive. It must have been blown from a tree during the turbulent recent
weather. It was quite empty; obviously the chicks had long since fledged and
gone their separate ways. From its size and the fact that I saw robin
fledglings earlier in the spring, I'd say this carefully woven home is the
creation of a robin. It is comprised of moss, twigs - and fox fur! The actual basket of the nest is made of plant material while the fur is found in the interior. It probably originally belonged to the Old Dogfox, as he did most of his grooming in our garden.
26th May 2006: Mange Confirmed
It appears that Thickbrush, the new arrival from outside the territory, has spread mange to her. The jury is still out on whether the Old Dogfox also been infected - certainly his eyes look a little dilated, which could be a symptom (mange causes eye infections as well as hair loss) but his back, although bare, is not red and raw. The Survivor Vixen, however, has open sores on her left foreleg and has already developed crusts on her face. I am shocked at the speed of her decline. Compare the picture of her which I took tonight with the one taken just a fortnight ago, on my post of the 13th May. She has not yet developed a limp and is still running around very fast, but obviously she will deteriorate without intervention. What with the car accident, the sudden inclination of the Old Dogfox to cross the road, and the Survivor Vixen's relapse, this has not been a good week. However, Takahe and the Fringe Vixen still seem to be in good health. I can see no alternative to capturing the Survivor Vixen for another round of treatment. I will speak to the rescue organisation tomorrow. 27th May 2006: Prepared London Wildcare have dropped off a cagetrap so I can capture Thickbrush and the Survivor Vixen for treatment. I just cannot believe we're back to this again, months after the mange outbreak seemed to be over. This situation does raise questions about the nature of mange that science is yet to tackle. Why have the three bigger vixens (Fringe, Ginger and Takahe) never caught it? Takahe mated with the Old Dogfox while he was seriously ill, and still did not fall victim. Do they have some genetic mutation that protects them? Despite trying to find scientific papers on mange, I am unable to discover whether it is actually a native British disease, or, like so many illnesses, it arrived with imported individuals. Rumours abound that hunters gathered European foxes to release in the UK for hunting at some point in the past. Again, I have been unable to substantiate that, but I do know how mange arrived in the western US - one of the most disgraceful incidents in that country's long, grim history of predator abuse. In 1905, wolves were captured in Montana, deliberately infected with mange, and released so that they and their packs would die. Even today, wildlife in Rocky Mountains still perishes because of their actions. In 2004 I saw a coyote in Canada that was enduring temperatures of -20 C with skin exposed by mange. Curious that the US, so worried about biological weapons in other countries, was perfectly happy to use them against wildlife. Interestingly, some wolves do survive mange without any human intervention. Perhaps their greater robustness and the security a pack provides to a sick animal helps see them through. 29th May 2006: Rescue Report: Day 1
Last night marked the start of the attempt to capture the Survivor Vixen and Thickbrush for mange treatment. It was an eventful evening but, as expected, neither of them were caught. It can take some time for foxes to become used to the presence of the cagetrap before they are willing to enter it. All five surviving foxes came. It was Takahe - who appears to be in the best health of all of them - who was most intrigued by the cage. She was reluctant to enter it (thankfully - capturing non-target foxes and then releasing them does get a bit wearing, especially as they do not at all enjoy the experience) but sniffed at the eggs inside with obvious longing. She retreated to the back of the cage and started digging a hole. Really digging - both front paws tossing mud in a way I've seldom seen foxes indulge in. Of course, her attempt to burrow underneath and gather the food without going inside was bound to fail, but we now have a shockingly large hole on the lawn. The Survivor Vixen was the last fox to appear. She is now in an appalling state, with much of her skin encrusted by the disease. She is visibly deteriorating on a daily basis. However, she is still not limping. The classic mange limp is caused by soreness over the hips and lower back from the cracked skin. She circled the cage several times. She took some cheese from the entrance while I watched with my heart in my month. I think this has be considered part of the rehearsal stage, as she learns about the cage before taking the plunge. If only we could explain to her that it's the only way to save her life. As for Thickbrush, he also investigated the cage but seemed flighty around the other foxes. At one point the Old Dogfox, in a rare burst of energy, sprang towards him and actually gave chase. One strange thing is that both Thickbrush and the Survivor Vixen are coughing and sneezing quite frequently. It must be a secondary infection that has invaded their bodies while they are weakened by mange. **** I wasn't particularly pleased to see Takahe last night, not only because I do not want to risk capturing her but also because she appears in a perpetually bad mood with all the others. Normally that wouldn't be an issue (for me, not for her family!) but during this delicate operation she is making something of a nuisance of herself. She may be rearing the Old Dogfox's cubs but there is more tension between them than amongst any of the other foxes. At one point last night, they almost went to the wall. She sat low down and hissed at him with flattened ears, while he opened his month as wide as he could and uttered a piercing fox scream. She also had arguments with the Survivor Vixen and the Fringe Vixen. Maybe it's a symptom of sleepless nights spent chewed by goodness knows how many pups. 30th May 2006: Rescue Attempt: Day 2 Greed cometh before a fall, it seems. Takahe, tiring of her digging exploits, last night entered the cagetrap. She sprang it whilst already backing out, and received a thump on her rear quarters from the falling door. She was not hurt, of course, but bolted with great haste. Hopefully she will now keep clear of the cage and give us more of a chance to capture the two who actually need to be inside there. The Survivor Vixen went as far as leaning inside the cage to retrieve some egg. She is gradually gaining boldness but this going to be a long, slow journey. Thickbrush took a little food but did not stay long. He seems nervous of all the foxes except for the Survivor Vixen, and even she pushed him off some egg beside the cage last night. 31st May 2006: Rescue Attempt: Day 3 The quietest day so far; the only truly noteworthy point is that the Survivor Vixen has started guarding the cagetrap and its food against the other foxes. She does so with latent aggression, rather than the directly confrontational approach of the other foxes when annoyed, but last night she was the only fox to take food from the cage. She bent her tail sideways when they approached and occasionally mock-lunged at them with open mouth, which seems to be the fox equivalent to baring teeth. She took plenty of food herself, but still left the pieces that were so deep inside that she would have closed the cage upon herself. Thickbrush came a few times during the evening, and also at about 7:45am this morning, which is unusual for him. 31st May 2006: All Stretched Out
His habit on sunny days is to sleep on my neighbour's lawn. Foxes in general are remarkably particular about keeping to their habits. Especially, it seems, those involving Paths. They have worn a marked trail in our garden leading from the turf on the mound, approaching the human path at right angles, turning again at some wild campion, and heading off to a gap in the fence. I have heard it said that a badger trail can be told from one created by foxes because badgers, being built like bulldozers, crush everything in their path to mud, whereas lightly-built foxes merely leave a legacy of bent grass behind. However, it surely depends on the number of badgers or foxes that use each trail. In woodland areas, heavier animals like deer also make well-defined tracks. The picture below shows part of the fox trail in the garden. I wonder if it would be worthwhile putting the webcam next to it at night - might get some interesting close-ups. But I am reluctant to try any new tricks on the foxes until the two with mange are safely in the wildlife hospital.
1st June 2006: Rescue Report: Day 4
Last winter, the Old Dogfox was cured of mange by three doses of ivermectin which we gave him via some dogfood. Taking a wild animal out of the wild should always be the last option. With the Old Dogfox, in-situ treatment was simple, as he is such a regular visitor and could be fed in our presence while the less trusting foxes stayed further back. The Survivor Vixen is different; although now coming every night (which was not the case during her first mange infection) and, at last, defending herself a little from the big foxes, I cannot easily guarantee that what I give her will actually end up inside her. Our plan is to use the cagetrap as a food tray, putting the treated food about half way inside it. Not enough to close the door and capture the fox, but enough to prevent thievery. Reasons:
Unless London Wildcare can bring the medicine today, we obviously won't be able to administer it to her tonight. But at least there is now a back-up plan.
2nd June 2006: Rescue Report: Day 5
Last night, for the first time ever, I was able to capture all five of our surviving foxes on camera. It was a riotous evening and one that gives some cause for concern about how we progress with the treatment. As mentioned in previous posts, the Survivor Vixen's personality has been altered somewhat by the food she has been pilfering from the entrance to the cagetrap. The idea of placing some there is that she will grow accustomed to the idea of eating food under its shadow, and will eventually go far enough inside to tread on the trigger that shuts the door. The night before last, she went as far as mock attacking Takahe. This is probably the first time in her life that she has had something of "her own" to guard. In fact, she is treating the cagetrap as her own miniature territory!
He chased her under a bush from whence came a plethora of squeals, whines and screams. Foxes do a good line in sounding like they are being murdered but I doubt any physical contact was made by either protagonist - it is about intimidation and implied power. She escaped from the bush, only to be chased under the hedgerow on the other side of the garden. She dropped to the ground; he followed suit, still growling ferociously. She got back to her feet to be hounded out of the garden, with the Fringe Vixen blithely lolloping behind with all the compassion and tact of a schoolboy witnessing a punch-up.
At this point I retreated from the patio, hoping
that removing
Credit to the little Survivor Vixen for not being completely deterred by such bullying; she returned later, even while the Old Dogfox was in the garden, and when I tossed a little cheese out to keep her coming until we can get the medicine inside her, she snatched it from almost underneath his nose.
Let's just say I'm looking forward to getting the medicine over and done with
so our garden can go back to being a place where foxes come for peaceful sleep
and to drink at
As to their health, the Survivor Vixen looked
surprisingly perky yesterday. The photo above shows her "good" side; the other
has lost far more fur. Thickbrush does not seem to be noticeably declining at
present. He (or she? I'm still not sure) has a normal coat on his front, as
can be seen. His rump is bare and raw, however. He is still the most nervous
fox and I am concerned about the prospects for feeding him
3rd June 2006: Rescue Report: Day 6
Away from the foxes, I'm amazed at the number of roe deer that I've seen in the last few days, including this doe. They exist well in meadows lightly grazed by horses, which is a common land use in my area. Foxes also frequently use such meadows. The relatively tall grass is good habitat for voles as well as deer. 5th June 2006: Survivor Vixen Dose 1 It has begun - at least, I think it has. Yesterday afternoon, a volunteer from London Wildcare brought us the ivermectin doses for the Survivor Vixen (Thickbrush is still too nervous to be easily given them). In an ideal world, foxes would sit patiently on the doctor's chair and allow you to squirt medicine down their throat, with or without sugar cubes, and then go bouncing off into the sunset. Unfortunately, in cold reality I have no way of communicating to the Survivor Vixen that drinking a probably foul-tasting chemical concoction is in her best interests. The compromise was to create a fox-proof sandwich. Take one small piece of brown bread, soften in the microwave, add the dose, and then drizzle melted cheese on top to seal the medicinal liquid in place. Add a little more cheese on the other side to make certain, and leave to cool. Come the evening, the Fringe Vixen and the Old Dogfox were the first to arrive. They were hungry and in questionable temper, so we fed them some cheese in the hope that the Survivor Vixen would hear the sounds of eating and come to investigate. She did emerge, more than an hour later. At this point we decided to risk putting the Sandwich half way down the cagetrap, while simultaneously scattering cheese by the bush to lure the bigger foxes away. The Fringe Vixen kindly cooperated to a tee, but the Old Dogfox seemed fixated by the Sandwich in the trap. In desperation, we opened the patio door just as he was about to snatch the Sandwich and walked towards him. He jumped backwards in surprise. And, to complicate matters, so did the Survivor Vixen. We scattered more cheese further away from the cage. This time, the Survivor Vixen leaned inside and took the Sandwich. She raced up to the back of the garden and disappeared behind the rhododendron. Did she eat it? Did she bury it? Not certain; she does like to back away before consuming food when the other foxes are present. She was clearly hungry last night, so I cannot see that she would have cached it. At least... Three doses, each a week apart. Two more doses to go. 6th June 2006: Interloper Returns!
Truly, I am astonished. Even by foxes' standards of unpredictability this ranks as a huge shock. You may recall that this enormous male fox (larger and heavier even than Thickbrush) originally appeared in December 2005, when the Old Dogfox was seriously ill with mange. They challenged each other for the territory, but their argument came to a sudden end in March when the Interloper was blinded in his left eye. He became very submissive to the Old Dogfox and finally vanished altogether.
Three months later, he has sauntered in the
garden
But what about the Old Dogfox?
He is not happy, that is obvious. He stalked into the garden
The Interloper dominated the vixens, too - except the Fringe Vixen, who, gestured at with open mouth, duly stood her ground and gestured back. Takahe, on the other hand, seemed almost pleased to see him - at least, that is the best interpretation I can give to her choice to actively approach him and sit down. This is the first time I have ever seen her look comfortable around another fox. Unfortunately, he also decided to interfere while we were giving the Survivor Vixen some please-keep-coming-until-medicine-is-completed food. Not only did he snatch it himself, he then chased her away from the feeding area. If he's here next Sunday, the day of the Survivor Vixen's next dose, this is going to be rather complex. 8th June 2006: Intermission After a few days of high drama, the last two nights have been surprisingly peaceful. The Interloper has not yet returned and the regulars are generally hovering about in harmony, although occasional screams are still echoing from the bushes, probably indicating squabbles over cached food. The Survivor Vixen briefly visited last night, and duly received her usual bribe of cheese. I did not see her for long enough to truly gauge her condition, but at a glance she seemed quite well. The fact that she is still moving freely gives hope. When the Old Dogfox had mange he was limping badly and visibly in discomfort, but the first dose of ivermectin that he ingested reversed his condition with almost miraculous speed. If - and we still can't be sure - the Survivor Vixen did eat the Sandwich on Sunday, she will already be feeling far better. I did not see her chewing herself at all yesterday, which is very encouraging. Thickbrush continues to visit on a nightly basis with no noticeable decline in his health. He is limping very occasionally but on the whole still seems quite robust. I'm still trying to figure out a way to get some ivermectin into him. 9th June 2006: Black Hats and White Hats Ready the rivals on the Western plains, cold and firm and resolute, ignoring the dried tumbleweed as it snaps from the ground. Their hands are ready, their guns are ready, their eyes locked upon each other, the death duel awaits... Our own protagonists, the Old Dogfox and the Interloper, are rather more subtle, but the angst between them is no less bitter. Last night there was a curious showdown that demonstrates some of the ways in which foxes communicate their disgust at each other. It all started normally enough. I looked outside at about 10pm to see the Interloper sitting upon the thick turf covering the mound. The Old Dogfox and the Fringe Vixen were much closer to the house, obviously hoping for a titbit. There were a few dog biscuits outside that were aimed at the Survivor Vixen who had attended earlier in the evening. The Old Dogfox made himself scarce, leaving the Fringe Vixen to have a minor argument with the Interloper. He opened his mouth in either aggression or defence as she walked by, but did not move from his place. He is a remarkably immoveable fox, come to that - I have yet to see anyone coerce him into leaving a comfortable sitting position. In contrast, Takahe, for example, jumps easily when threatened. Then the Old Dogfox returned. He refused to look at the Interloper. Not even a glance did he take in his rival's direction. Instead, he walked with sinister slowness in front of the patio, sharply veering to the left up the (human) path. He stopped at the pond and cocked his leg on some reeds, still not looking at the Interloper. He slowed his pace further, walking like a cat on eggshells, arching his back, as he crossed behind the Interloper and went to the conifer tree. This tree seems to serve as the message board for the whole fox group. The Old Dogfox certainly put a premium on leaving his scent around it - or, perhaps, getting its scent on him. He rolled on the ground, rubbing his face and neck at its base. Then he stood up and bit the tree. Repeat: he bit the tree. He bit off the lower spindly branches with an audible crack. The Interloper lay still on the mound, ears slightly flattened, uttering a high pitched whine. Is this all some kind of show of strength - "challenge me and I'll do to you what I just did to this?" Unfortunately, the show was terminated at this point by one of the dogs racing outside and startling both foxes, but tonight I will wait with the video camera and see what there is to see. *** What is the Interloper's life history? My guess is that he is some kind of wild card, a fox who saunters through numerous territories without either avoiding the occupants or fully dominating them. Could he even have partially fathered Takahe's litter? Without genetic tests, we will never know. 11th June 2006: Piracy If thieving is a crime amongst foxes, then our entire group stands guilty as accused. Stealing of toys and food is par for the course; whether the Interloper also plans to steal the Old Dogfox's territorial supremacy is open to debate. While coming here at all is somewhat impertinent of him, his reluctance to attack the Old Dogfox outright suggests that he is more preoccupied with food, and testing the Old Dogfox's resolve. Last night, the Interloper's visit was brief. Of greater interest was the Old Dogfox's continued scent marking around the garden, a symbolic warning to all that he is in control of this land. I was able to film him scent-marking the conifer tree by rubbing his neck at its base. If you have seen a cat rolling about on a patio during a hot summer's day, you have a good idea of what the Old Dogfox has been doing. In both cases, putting the animal's own personal odour on the territory is to them what a Keep Out - Private Property sign is amongst humans.
Yes, his brush does look terrible, but that's because his fur didn't grow back there after the spring moult - perhaps the skin was damaged by his previous outbreak of mange. I'm hoping that he will get back to his original good looks when he moults into his winter coat at the end of the summer. Two other points of note: we have decided that Thickbrush must be a vixen after all, despite his / her extremely large size and broad head; after watching the Old Dogfox's fits at the sight of the Interloper, I cannot believe he would so easily tolerate any other male in the vicinity. Secondly, and more worryingly, the Survivor Vixen did not take any cheese from the cagetrap last night. She is due her second dose of ivermectin this evening. If she has lost her boldness in taking food from the trap, the operation is going to become much more dicey. 12th June 2006: Mange Treatment - Dose 2 I always thought that "Be Prepared" was a boy scouts' motto, but it seems a useful policy for anything that remotely involves foxes. The Interloper did stay away last night, but the Survivor Vixen seems far more nervous since his return and we were unable to give her the medicine. We will try again as soon as possible. But - Thickbrush did take the ivermectin! This was a most unexpected bonus; finding her (him?) sitting alone by the conifer tree, we were able to throw the Sandwich in her direction. She has two raw patches on her flanks, and although her condition is no way near as severe as that of the Survivor Vixen (who has now lost almost all fur on her neck and shoulders) the dose should have a huge impact. (Apologies for the delay in uploading the post below - I'm having problems with my internet connection) 16th June 2006: Portrait Time We are awaiting some more ivermectin doses. If all goes to plan, we should be able to give both the Survivor Vixen and Thickbrush their required medicine on Sunday.
None of the foxes have been very lively this week. I've seen foxes lazing about in the sunshine more times than I can count over the years, but the current heatwave seems just too torrid. I imagine that they are spending the days lying in the lee of hedgerows and in bramble thickets, relaxing at least as much as the pups permit them. The pups must think that sunshine and the occasional thunderous downpour is the only weather Britain experiences. Come to that, I wonder what they thought of the hail that fell briefly last week? *** One rather disturbing matter to report - one of the foxes left some scat on the front garden which contained an intact rubber band. I don't know what induced the fox to swallow such a thing, but they clearly present some risk to wildlife. Litter in general is a blight for animals - and people: I have an inch-long scar on my hand from falling on a broken bottle as a five year old. 18th June 2006: Mange Treatment - Dose 3 Success - and a day earlier than planned! The Survivor Vixen came early last night, flitting about the back of the garden while the Old Dogfox and the Fringe Vixen strolled near the patio. After a gap of 13 days between doses, it seems that we will need to give her the entire course again; she was scratching herself for the first time in several days. Having received the ivermectin on Saturday afternoon, we decided not to delay any longer. This time the dose was inserted inside what could be called a cheese ball, small enough to be swallowed with one gulp. We distracted the big foxes with raisins, tossed the ball over their heads, and, thankfully, it went down the Survivor Vixen's throat. No running to the rhododendron bush this time! Thickbrush will need her second dose tonight because she is still on the original timescale. Incidentally, the Interloper paid a brief visit late last night but fortunately well after the medical proceedings were finished. The Old Dogfox was not present at the time. 19th June 2006: Absent without Leave Unfortunately Thickbrush did not come. I am less worried about her than about the Survivor Vixen. I have been told that sometimes foxes with mange just plateau in their condition, which appears to be the case with Thickbrush. While mange is clearly visible on her skin, and has been for many weeks, the overall extent does not seem to be increasing. Nevertheless, we will give her the next dose at the earliest opportunity. The Survivor Vixen and Takahe were also missing yesterday. The heat does seem to be correlated to fewer fox visits. But the Old Dogfox is as regular as a cuckoo clock - at least, he does not come precisely four times per hour but is certainly never far away. Of greater interest last night, however, was the Interloper, once again sitting on the mound and getting defensive at the other foxes. Curiously, much of his body language is very submissive. He lowers his ears and keeps a low profile, and whines rather than growls if approached. He seems to be trying to wheedle his way into the territory under the Old Dogfox's nose, as if hoping for a live-and-let-be-invisible policy. I cannot see that he will ever be accepted. The Old Dogfox was displaying territorial aggression again last night, gnawing at the poor conifer tree (which has never done anything to either protagonist), rolling on the ground, and generally stalking about with arched back and vertical brush. The Fringe Vixen does not seem to like the Interloper either; she had yet another spat with him over nothing in particular. It's getting to the stage where we can tell that another fox is entering the garden simply because the Interloper immediately starts gesturing with open mouth and flattened ears. Only Takahe behaves normally around him. 21st June 2006: War and Peace There is still no sign of Thickbrush - I heard her barking on Saturday (at least, she's by far the most vocal fox so it almost certainly was her making the noise) but she hasn't actually visited the garden for about a week. I am wondering if she is afraid of the Interloper, who is still treading a fine line between making himself at home and trying to convince the Old Dogfox that he is no threat. Nevertheless, the five other foxes all came last night and put on a vivid display of vulpine eccentricity. First up - the Old Dogfox and the Interloper. I caught on camera some of the strange behaviour that I've been describing in previous posts. In this clip, the Old Dogfox once again beats up on the conifer tree and then adopts what I would call his Angry Cat Walk - arched back and lowered head, steps slow and menacing. Watch the Interloper's discomfort as he is approached. As time goes by, he is becoming more and more rattled by his foe.
How will this all end? Will he leave in November when the pups disperse to pastures new? The tension will certainly ratchet up levels if he is still here come the next breeding season, but that is months away. *** In stark contrast to the grim standoff between the two males, the Survivor Vixen is a bundle of riotous joy at the moment. I know one has to be careful when assigning human emotions to animals, but I can see no explanation for her behaviour except that she is happy that she is feeling better. After all, she has endured weeks of savagely itching skin and painful conjunctivitis. The second dose of ivermectin, which she ate on Saturday, has had a remarkable effect on her. Although still scratching a little, she is herself again. Her eyes are visibly clearer and, judging from her fluid movement, she is not suffering from soreness across her hips. In this footage, she tries to play with the Interloper (!), the Old Dogfox and the Fringe Vixen, chiefly inciting things by creeping behind them and nipping them on the rump. Perhaps I'd better find another tennis ball for her before she drives her family insane!
22nd June 2006: Surprise Dosage The Survivor Vixen has taken her cheese-ball infused with ivermectin! We decided to give it to her today as the non-fox part of life may make feeding her difficult on Sunday. Although she has now had three doses in total, we're going to press on and give her a fourth because of the long gap between the first and second treatments. Her final dose should be this Thursday (29th June). 23rd June 2006: Cry of the Jungle Yikes. What a violent evening - everyone falling out with everyone else. The arguments between the Fringe Vixen and Takahe have suddenly morphed into a full scale punch-up. What is it with Takahe anyway? Rarely can a fox approach within a few metres of her without her whining and flattening her ears in over-the-top submission. She's the breeding vixen - the alpha female - and should be exerting her authority over them, not the other way round. Granted, she's not that big, being intermediate between the Survivor Vixen and the Fringe Vixen in size, but still, she's unreasonably overwhelmed with nerves it seems. When she entered the garden this evening, the Interloper approached her and tried to sniff her. She didn't react well. Neither did the Old Dogfox, her mate, who leapt in the direction of his rival with haste. The Interloper backed down immediately. I started filming soon afterwards. At that time, the Old Dogfox and the Interloper were located in the middle of the garden, and Takahe was sitting relatively peacefully near the patio. What happened next was not peaceful at all. Takahe stalked up the garden path, tail swishing like a cat. The next thing I knew, the Fringe Vixen and Takahe were up on their hindlegs doing the foxtrot; Takahe was bowled over backwards as her stronger sister exerted her muscle. The Old Dogfox, like an indignant patriarch descending upon squabbling wives, stormed up the garden and, deliberately or otherwise, broke up the fight. He followed them into the undergrowth, growling ferociously. They all disappeared into a neighbour's garden and screams echoed out of the darkness. The Fringe Vixen re-emerged a few minutes later, uttering a curious chirping sound. She then broke into harsh nasal barking. I broke up the movie with indicators of where the different fox noises are, as some of them aren't easy to hear. The fight sequence is piercingly loud.
The barks and screams continued long into the night. 25th June 2006: After the Storm A night without Takahe - a night full of peace. Almost. After the extraordinary scenes on the night of the 23rd (see below), I wasn't too sure what to expect last night. But the foxes seemed fairly quiet, like washed out sunshine after a violent thunderstorm. As far as I observed, only three of them visited - the Old Dogfox, the Fringe Vixen, and the Survivor Vixen. I gave the two big foxes a little cheese to distract them as I tossed the Survivor Vixen her daily bait. Her next dose of ivermectin is due on Thursday, and she absolutely must keep coming at a regular time until then. There is still no sign of Thickbrush. The Old Dogfox still seems a little ill at ease. He briefly chased the Survivor Vixen last night with a coughing growl after she had grabbed her cheese. Perhaps he was just hungry, but he has been more ratty with the other foxes ever since the Interloper returned. In all fairness, refereeing a home with fighting females, a young male upstart, two sick vixens, and a mate who seems to be perpetually in a panic cannot be the easiest of tasks. And, I've never yet met a cub who gave its parent an easy ride! I suspect he's nipped and pounced upon whenever he goes home. I took this photo of him on the 23rd, while the Interloper was in the garden. He often cocks his leg on the reeds to the left of the picture. Notice how his back is arched and his brush held fairly high. This is his Territorial Command walk.
26th June 2006: Night Song Can foxes sing? If the definition of "song" is sound attractive to human ears, then the answer is probably no; but that is a narrow perspective, given that there are 30,000,000 other species on this planet. A fox may never utter a trill of a skylark or the haunting melody of a wolf, but their voices speak of a wilderness so nearly lost in the UK due to relentless domestication of the land. A dogfox barking on a misty autumn night is a reminder to us of the non-human world, like the loon howling in the Canadian wilderness and the zebras whinnying on the African plains. It is tempting to assume that such rustic sounding barks must always come from a sturdy dogfox. Yet here, it has not been the male foxes making the most noise of late. That accolade must go to the Fringe Vixen. Last night, even without Takahe's presence, she was yet again irrepressible. She spent nearly all evening barking, chirping and screaming. I am starting to be concerned that, at last, she has contracted mange. She is scratching frequently and her brush seems to be thinning out. It could be a late moult, I guess. I'm keeping a close eye on her. But the Survivor Vixen has shown that foxes' moods are affected by their health. Could the Fringe Vixen's constant alarm calls be an indicator that she is not feeling well? Remember that Thickbrush also became incredibly vocal when she had mange. Of course, there are many other possible explanations, and this is all speculation at this stage. However, here I present my video footage of last night. Courtesy mainly of the Fringe Vixen, I captured an extraordinary range of fox vocalisations. If I put them up on the web without any labelling, what species do you think people would assume made them? Badgers? Coyotes? Perhaps even a dolphin? Nope, foxes...
27th June 2006: The Moth Stalker
Admittedly, it was just a large moth, but he swallowed it at one gulp (and ate it slowly, as if questioning the taste). I was impressed by his swiftness in noticing it from the other side of the garden and the accuracy in his lunge, compared, say, to a dog trying to catch a fly. I cannot think moths have much nutritional value, though; a bit of protein, perhaps. Earlier, the Survivor Vixen got the rough side of both the Old Dogfox and the Fringe Vixen, the latter giving her a good thump with her rear quarters into the hedgerow. I am deliberately targeting the Survivor Vixen with cheese as she's the only fox that I actually want to feed, and I fear that is hyping up the tension. When they see cheese land near her, they give chase with a throaty growl if she is not able to consume it at once. Interestingly, the Interloper approached the Old Dogfox while the resident male was eating this evening. He was promptly chased away, but it's an indicator of his growing confidence. Although the Old Dogfox cocked his leg on plants four times this evening, there was less outright conflict than usual. 29th June 2006: Repose
Wildlife biologists put radio collars on wide-ranging mammals to obtain high quality data concerning habitat usage, but I have just have to take Outside sightings when I can. About 7:30am this morning, I was walking one of the dogs down the quiet lane near the horse paddock. A large roe deer doe pranced gracefully away along the fence but there was no sign of a fox. Half an hour later, though, I came back that way and spotted the Fringe Vixen in the same field! She leapt up onto a fallen tree trunk and peered at me through the greenery. I had only a split second to take a photo, so forgive me if it appears a little out of focus. I assume she was hunting for voles or mice; the fallen tree is near a barn storing hay, and must be full to the brim with rodents. When I got home I found the Old Dogfox pottering peacefully about the garden - the most relaxed that I have seen him for a long time. He lay down in the grass just the other side of the fence, looking at my camera with curiosity. And it is so nice to be photographing in daylight for once. No worrying about compensating for slow shutter speeds, flash causing reflected eyes, and sundry other issues.
29th June 2006: Complete!! The Survivor Vixen has had her final dose of ivermectin! The nerve-jangling, the cheese-and-raisin bribing, and baking of Cheese Sandwiches is over. A month and three days since I observed her with mange, she is finally fully dosed up and ready to take on the world again. It's quite miraculous, really. Here I present my notes from tonight to demonstrate the fantastic complexity of feeding a medicinal drug to a wild fox.
|
|
What happens when a vixen sees
snow for the first time in her life? Or, for that matter, when you leave dog
leads outside in fox country. 
All normal enough. Then
she went a-rolling!
One of the first things we are
taught about wildlife is that some creatures prefer to be out and about
during the day (like adults) and others sleep in the daytime and wake up at
dusk (like students and awkward babies). We are also taught that foxes are
night active ("nocturnal"), but, when left to organise their time
themselves, rather than being preoccupied with avoiding us, this is often
not the case.
Newsflash: The Survivor Vixen
has been successfully returned to the wild! 
It was pouring with rain this
morning, so like any wild creature, the Ginger Vixen was looking for a warm,
safe hiding place out of reach of the elements. 
It's the
time of year again when blackbirds sing their melodies from high perches as
sunny afternoons gently pale into long, golden-lit dusks.
It seems that foxes are no respecter of blogs. Within a couple of hours of my comment that the
Survivor Vixen hasn't been seen of late, she has reappeared, looking quite
normal. I even managed to get a photo of her, the first I have ever captured of
her free in the wild. She is an exceptionally tough challenge to catch on camera
because she is so fidgety - she rushes headlong across the garden or erratically
dances back and forth. She hardly ever sits still at all, which is most
un-foxlike. To take photographs without the flash after dark, I need to
dramatically slow the shutter speed. That allows the camera to compensate for
the limited light, but requires a stationary subject. Tonight, at last, the
Survivor Vixen complied with my requirements.
Such could not be said for the Old Dogfox. He spent a good part of
yesterday reclining on my neighbours' lawn. I said in a previous post that
whenever I see foxes soundly sleeping, they are curled up like a cat, and
suggested that this is primarily to reduce heat loss. In the warmth of
yesterday, the Old Dogfox seemed content to stretch himself out and blissfully
forget the world.
The Dog Toy
Thief is close to being unmasked. 
It is
just past eight o'clock on a gloriously sunny May morning. Already today the
garden has been graced by two foxes, neither of whom, surprisingly, were
utilising the sunshine for sleeping.
The other fox, however, was the star this morning. The Survivor Vixen so rarely
comes in broad daylight, and is so reluctant to stay still enough to be
photographed, that I consider any picture of her to be quite a prize. In the
second picture here, you can clearly see her outrageously large tail tip (as the
rest of her tail is as thin as a cat's, she looks like she has a wall painting
brush rather than a foxbrush). Compare her face to that of the Ginger Vixen in
the previous post. Her head is narrower and her ears much larger. She is
noticeably smaller than all the other foxes even at a distance.
What an extraordinary evening - the
mystery of the Ginger Vixen's "pups" is solved!
The clichéd joke about Piccadilly
buses seems to apply to Thickbrush. After only a handful of sightings in two
months, I have now seen him three times in four days. 
An esteemed naturalist once wrote
that when a person tugs at one thing in nature, he finds it attached to the
rest of the world. He was thinking on a grandiose scale, of ecosystems
interlinked and interdependent. Yet, the same could also be said for animal
communities.
This is a marvellous thing. How
true it is that nothing in nature goes to waste.
We
have a new problem. The Survivor Vixen has caught mange again.
Amidst
all the drama of trying to trap the two sick foxes for treatment, the Old
Dogfox has, on the whole, remained his stolid self. This afternoon he was
relaxing cat-style during a rare moment of sunshine in this relentlessly wet
May, stretching out his toes as he made himself at ease.
After
another fruitless night of wishing the Survivor Vixen inside the cagetrap and
being thwarted by her nerves and Takahe's renewed appetite, we're considering
changing tack. 
Takahe's relationships with the other foxes continue to intrigue me. Last
night she had a vocal fight with the Survivor Vixen, who, most out of
character, chased her from the cagetrap up to the conifer tree.
Here, both vixens dropped to the ground, lying flat on their chests with their
ears pinned back. They then opened their mouths wide and screamed at each
other, glaring into the opponent's eyes. Amazingly, Takahe was the one to back down. However, she reversed her
defeat later on and the Survivor Vixen left the garden. There is also palpable
tension between Takahe and the Fringe Vixen, who adopts a curious, arched-back
cat walk whenever she needs to travel near her taller but more lightly built
sister. Takahe, for her part, opens her mouth in what appears to be
threatening nervousness if any fox comes within about two metres of her. She
seems very highly strung.
We have a full house!
Last night she paid the price. The Old Dogfox, usually so benign, started
growling at her, a strange nasal growl, sounding rather like a dog with a
blocked nose. But for a fox, it was a fearsome noise. Instead of heeding the
warning, the Survivor Vixen stood her ground. He attacked.
the Unwilling Food
Provider would calm the situation. However, when I looked outside a few
minutes later, everyone except the Old Dogfox had disappeared. 
the pond. They had a long established tradition of not finding
excessive food in our garden. That promoted peace. If the love of money is the
root of all evil in humans, I'd say worship of food brings out the worst in
foxes. None of them are actually underweight, anyway...
ivermectin. We will
probably receive the medicine today, so the new stage of the rescue attempt
starts tonight.
Unfortunately we were unable to receive the ivermectin doses yesterday so the
second stage of the rescue attempt has been slightly postponed. Last night was
quiet in any case, as the foxes seemed to be disturbed by a neighbour trimming
the lawn and did not come until late in the evening.
A new and most unexpected twist has befallen the garden - the Interloper has
returned!
with all of
his old panache and made himself at home without a hint of restraint or fear.
His eye does not seem to be bothering him; at least, he is not pawing at it or
otherwise behaving in a manner to suggest any discomfort. Wild animals are
generally very good at adapting to disabilities. There used to be a wolf in
Yellowstone who had been crippled in two legs, yet still managed to hunt.
last night like
the Fringe Vixen in a bad mood, with arched back and tail held high. He did
not directly interact with the Interloper but uttered grievances at a
distance, by scent marking all over the garden with both urine and through
rubbing his neck on the grass. He is saying "Look here, this is my
land" in fox-speak.
Meanwhile, the
Old Dogfox is always at hand for photography practice. It's hard not to wonder
at the scars on his muzzle - did they originate from a fight with the
Interloper during his first, more aggressive visit back in the winter? Or are
they just a symptom of the general wear and tear of life? Compare his broad
head and short muzzle to Takahe's lithe, greyhound-like looks in the post of
The Old
Dogfox has finally shown that he is a capable hunter!
I love
seeing the garden foxes "out in the wild", in the big wide world outside the
garden. They seem to inhabit a sphere of land stretching from horse paddocks in
the south to the residential road in the east. I have never seen any of them
much further west than the garden.
