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)