Vulpes Vulpes; The Red Fox

Identification: The red fox often has reddish orange fur with a white underbelly, and a white spot on the tip of the tail. There is variation between animals with some more grayish, some more brownish, and others in between. Some individuals are called "silver" which is supposed to be fancy, but looks pretty much like gray to me. There is also a gray fox, which is a different species. Here I will focus on the red fox, who in my opinion looks best when he is very red.

An adult red fox can be up to around 30 inches long, and weigh around 20 lbs. It's always worth taking time out of your day to look at a fox.

The red fox is nothing if not interesting. His red fur is striking, and his movements astounding in their agility. The fox is a member of the Canidae family, so he's related to dogs and wolves. However, he manages to maintain his distance and intrigue despite a long association and frequent contact with humans. We know our dogs. They share our homes, providing comfort and companionship. After being raised on The Three Little Pigs, and Little Red Riding hood, most of us also feel pretty confident in our horrifyingly inaccurate views of the wolf. But the fox, well he's a sly one.

The Fox and I, a Personal History

I manage to see foxes a lot these days. Yet it was not always so. For the first twenty years of my life, I suffered a marked dearth of foxes. So many times someone said, "Oh look, there's a fox." I turned, and alas saw nothing. As a child I remember waking up on a snow day and my mother saying, "a fox just walked across the yard and climbed the fence." I looked out over the yard for as many minutes as my four year old brain would allow before despairing of ever witnessing this sight myself (probably at least 30 seconds).

In college I was told that a fox lived on campus, just near the pond, and came out frequently for an evening stroll. I parked myself by his alleged den every night for a week, yet caught not so much as a glimpse of my furry friend. In torment, i composed a poem about looking for a fox without finding him. It was filled with angst, addressing the fox by his Latin name, and full of passages about "awaiting." Had I not possessed the good sense to burn my notebook during senior week revelry, I would surely have been haunted by extreme embarrassment for years upon its rereading.

Habits and Idiosyncrasies

I have some valuable and fascinating insights into the nature of foxness, however one could argue that these are entirely without scientific merit. So before moving on to these, I'll touch on a few of the most important hard facts about the canid.

1) A true nimrod, the fox will stalk, kill, and eat a wide variety of his animal brethren. He'll munch on a crayfish, steal a hen from the henhouse, or dine on a rabbit. Like us, he's an omnivore, and won't turn his nose up at a few berries with his meat.

2) The fox is Crepuscular. This means he hunts mostly around dawn or dusk. It's a valuable word to know. The best time to throw out the term Crepuscular is when another amateur naturalist is threatening to steal your show by telling everyone an animal in question is nocturnal. E.G. "Well Peter, I hate to nit-pick, but wouldn't it be more precise to say Spilogale putorius is Crepuscular?"

3) Despite being in the dog family, we call fox babies "kits," not puppies. A mother fox will wound prey, and bring it back to her young kits to train them as hunters. A grim type of play indeed, but all the same essential to future survival.

Part II. Literary Character and Aesthetics

This is where foxes truly shine. There are a lot of decent predators out there, but none have developed the same reputation for cleverness. Aside from that anomalous specimen immortalized for adopting airs when failing to secure grapes, foxes generally come out ahead by relying on their wit. I can see how this might happen, elude a few farmers, sneak off with their hens, and over time you develop a reputation for cunning ingenuity. What I don't quite comprehend is how the fox is able to spin this trait to his advantage, avoiding the fate of his cousin the wolf.

The Fox vs. the Wolf; a Brief Study in Contrasts

How does the fox do it? He slaughters chickens, gobbles up bunnies, and still comes off as an urbane, gentlemanly sort. We recognize he might slay poultry, but find ourselves willing to forgive his irrepressible care free nature, because after all, he's just so slick. We prefer not to dwell deeply on his faults and even laud his skill in slipping away with prize fowl. Watching a fox abscond with our fattest hen we might chuckle to ourselves, and say "Well played my good man, a fine sport, till we meet again!"

Yet how do we view the wolf when he attempts to use his intellect? Hardly in the same complimentary light. In terms of clever tricks animals might play, dressing up as a sheep is not the work of a dolt. I'd be willing to say it's more impressive than anything dolphins do at sea world. But let a wolf try this, and praising his keen resourcefulness is the farthest thing from our minds. Unlike the fox, the clever wolf comes off as a deranged sociopath. If a fox were to dress as a hen, we'd probably marvel at his creativity. For the wolf we reserve pursed lips and stern disapproval. The fox is charming, the wolf is a dhameresque psycho who eats grandmothers and their favorite red caped little descendants.

Perhaps it is true, as Dorothy Day once said, "The Esaus of this world are so often more lovable than the Jacobs." This would explain our views of the fox. But why do we see the wolf as less of an Esau and more of a Charles Manson? For this, I have no answer, despite spending a total of four weeks at nature camp. Indeed, in this case the axiom "wisdom can not be taught" is illustrated beautifully.

Foxes; Wet vs. Dry

I will conclude with one of the more esoteric fragments of knowledge relating to Vulpes Vulpes. This unsurprisingly deals with his appearance. What attracts me most to the fox is his beauty. He's a gorgeous, gorgeous animal. It is no wonder then that the most comely of our own species are termed "vixens." Yet even this most handsome of canids has a physical imperfection, a small but serious blemish threatening at times to mar his good looks. This lies in his response to water.

If we further meditate upon the dual meaning of "vixen" this point is elucidated effectively. Allow me to explain. When you thoroughly apply water to members of our species, physical allure is not entirely eradicated. In some cases, well documented in both modern photography and cinematography, an unmistakable "come hither" appeal is perceivably enhanced.
Conversely, the application of water to the canid fox almost completely effaces all beauty. If the sodden fox retains the capacity to inspire any emotion other than revulsion, it is merely pity.
Should you have ever happened upon a fox immediately following a thunderstorm, you know the truth my words contain. A wet fox is jarringly unattractive.

The following pictures attempt to capture this phenomenon:

The red fox, dry

The Red Fox, Wet (Artist Rendering)

Latrodectus variolus, The Black Widow Spider

image from wikipedia

Identification: This one is pretty straight forward. It's shiny black with a bright red hourglass on the body. Pretty hard to mistake. The adults are about 1.5 inches across. Of course, the juveniles and males look a little different. They are smaller, sometimes brownish, sometimes a little speckled. I wouldn't really worry about that though. I'm pretty sure people are interested in actual black widows, not little black bachelor spiders, or brownish maid spiders.

If you want to sound interesting while discussing the natural world, you can get a lot of mileage out of the black widow spider. It's pretty, it's creepy, and it's poisonous. There's something about being poisonous that makes an animal so much more intriguing. The average man on the street will readily attest to knowledge of the king cobra, but is unlikely to provide much insight into say, habits of the eastern milk snake. In any case, the black widow has done a good job getting it's name out there. It might not be a rattlesnake or great white shark, but it's close.

An Arachnid for the Contrarian's Contrarian

To intelligently discuss this spider, one needs do little more than learn to dismiss the common wisdom. Let's talk about how one should approach two of the most well known facts.

Fact # 1: The black widow is poisonous.

Everyone knows this, but this alone doesn't tell you much. The thing to know is exactly how poisonous the black widow is, and what its poison will do to you. The black widow is extraordinarily poisonous. Jab someone with a syringe full of black widow poison and it would be curtains for him. However, the amount a widow spider will inject with its bite is minuscule. It's generally not enough to send anyone shuffling off his mortal coil. So what you want to say is something like this, "Yes they are rather poisonous, but the odds of death from the hint of venom in a widow bite are long indeed."

Next you need to know what the poison can do. It reads like a typical list of "possible side effects" from prescription medication. The effects include the usual; headaches, nausea, dizziness, vomiting, and abdominal pains similar to those in childbirth. Obviously, it's the last one I'm interested in. To be fair, I've only heard anecdotally that these pains resemble childbirth, but that's enough for me. It resembles childbirth and lasts for 2-3 days. That means, should you be a gentleman bitten by a black widow spider, you can someday look lovingly in your spouse's eyes as she delivers your child, and say, "Honey, I know just what you're going through...of course, for me it lasted three whole days, but I know that even these few hours have been tough." Theoretically, any man who so desires might improve his ability to empathize with the mother of his children simply by going to out to the wood pile and harassing his local Latrodectus specimen.
In all seriousness though, don't do this. It's a terrible idea. Although it's unlikely, you might die, and even if you survive your wife probably won't appreciate the gesture. Most likely she'd hate it. Plus, as a father who stood by and supported his spouse through the beautiful yet somewhat horrific experience of natural (drug free) childbirth, I'm pretty sure that getting bitten by a widow spider would be way easier, despite any literature to the contrary.

Finally it's important to note that the black widow spider doesn't really want to bite you anyway. She's a live-and-let-live type who would rather spin her web, eat insects, and reproduce than take time out of her busy schedule to give you a good chomping.

Fact # 2: The black widow spider kills and eats her gentleman callers after mating, hence the name.

Never hesitate to point out that this 'fact' is not entirely true. The female widow spider does not normally slay her unsuspecting suitors after a tryst, and has been unfairly maligned. Moreover, this behavior is rarely observed in the wild, where it has been limited to only one strain of widow spider (there are several). Here you have the perfect formula: a generally inoffensive creature, captured by humans and culturally debased by a cruel artificial environment to the point of extreme depravity. Knowing this enables you to almost drip with moral superiority when discussing the widow spider. Speak as if you would never stoop so low as to confine an arachnid while saying something to the effect of, "in their natural habitat, cannibalism between mates is virtually unknown." If you really want to push it, you might then mention that after a typical rendezvous, the male will sometimes proceed to mate with other females. Thus, not only is this spider non-violent in a natural state, it also blithely embraces a post-modern, post-conventional moral approach to the family. You could say all this, but I'd recommend carefully gauging the tolerance of your audience beforehand.

Carduelis tristis, The American Goldfinch

American Goldfinch
How to identify: It's really bright yellow, with black wings and a black spot on its head. It's about 4-5 inches long. In the winter it's a dull greenish brown color. Also, the females are duller without the black spot on the head. There's not much point in learning what females and winter goldfinches look like because it's boring and no one will care.

If you want the most bang for your buck, look no further than the American Goldfinch. It has an abundance of excellent qualities which perfectly suit the needs of the dilettante naturalist. First of all, it is incredibly yellow; when in the sun, almost blindingly so. Secondly, it is common. Take a stroll around the block, and chances are you will encounter a goldfinch. Most importantly, despite these two characteristics, a good number of people have absolutely no clue that goldfinches exist.

Hard to believe, yes, but I assure you, it's true.

I first discovered the goldfinch when I was eight years old. My parents sent me to nature camp where I learned to identify local wildlife, and quickly became cognizant of the fact that suburbia was teeming with these cheerfully painted little organisms. Even better, I learned that my mother was unaware of their presence, and frankly prone to disbelieve my claims that a bright yellow bird with black wings inhabited these regions (This was not an unjustified disposition, for as I child was was somewhat given to exaggeration if not fabrication). But ha! imagine my triumph when able to point out a male of the species dallying on a wildflower just yards away from where our station wagon idled at an intersection. And this only moments after she rolled her eyes at my narrative of the day's ornithological sightings!

Please do not think that ignorance of this charming finch is limited to my mother. Over the years I discovered that about fifty-five to sixty percent of the population goes through life blissfully unconcerned with finches, bright yellow or otherwise. Armed with a tiny bit of knowledge one can be the bearer of good news, introducing scores of impressed friends to the pleasures of the goldfinch. It is as if over half the population has not only never watched a sunset, but also doesn't even know this whole sunset watching business is an option.

So, when reasonably sure that an acquaintance possesses little or no knowledge of birds, never hesitate to point out this finch saying, "oh look, there's a goldfinch." Chances are your companion will be duly impressed. If your friend has any more than a passing knowledge of birds, don't worry, all is not lost. You can still carry the day by adding something along the lines of "I say, isn't it peculiar that the Latin name implies 'sad thistle eater.' With that coloration I can think of few birds who seem more cheerful!"

This should clinch the deal. If not it's time to cut your losses. Fret not, some people simply can't be impressed by either a knowledge of wildlife, or ancient languages.