My old mangy friend

• By Alison
• 30 January, 2010
• 3 Comments

I’ve always hated the foxes that call our back access passage their home, as they are – for the most part – a mangy pack of degenerate creatures who are also responsible for the theft and mutliation of 3 sneakers. Also suspects in the theft of one thong (the footwear variety).

There are so many of them in this area that they’ve become quite brazen. They wander about during the early afternoon sometimes, and don’t take flight until you get quite near them.

In summer they take over the night with their mating screams and howls.

The very first time I ever heard a vixen on heat, I nearly called the police.

But I heard something recently that made me favour them slightly more than I had. At an allotment talk not too long ago, the “work with nature” guy told us that if we didn’t have our fox population on the allotment, then we’d as likely have 5 times the number of rats.

That stopped me in my tracks slightly, as that concept was so much worse than a few mangy and noisy foxes. It didn’t make me like them any more, just tolerate them somewhat.

And then my fox moved in.

He’s a young fox, and on closer inspection I can see that his leg has been injured in a fight – maybe bitten – but seems to be healing ok. 

He’s taken to sleeping on my shed roof, and I keep trying to take photos of him. Already I’ve put a few up in this blog.

The difficulty is snapping him while he sleeps, as I can’t get out of the house to get closer to him at all, so I have to shoot from our bedroom window with my largest lens – which isn’t. Then I have problems getting the focus perfect as he’s so far away. 

Plus he tends to sleep behind the upright slide or the tree at the end of the shed, so I can’t get him without details being obliterated by dangling leaves or a massive orange rectangle.

His hearing is excellent – I see his ears prick up as I first open the window fully wide, then he’s looking straight at me when he hears the camera whirr.

I have actually tried a few times to get out near him, but nearly always fail. To start with, it’s winter, so the door is always closed at the back of the house – and it squeaks to open! I got all the way to the swings one day and climbed up to snap off a photo. I got one – and the noise of the camera had him in flight within seconds.

I got to the swing another day, but as I snuck my camera around the upright slide he was already taking his leave.

I haven’t given him a name yet, but I am sure I will think of one. 

Because he’s my mate now.

—

In this photo you can see his injured leg – the skin is pink, but seems to be healing. He just needs to regrow his fur now.

The sun was out, but the roof was covered in frost. And yet he was still there.

This is the view of him from the swing set, but by the time I climbed onto it to get a more level view, he was gone.