Outfoxed

Ok, I’ll admit it…I’m afraid of foxes. People tell me this is an irrational fear, and that foxes are more scared of me than I am of them, but I know this just isn’t true, especially when it comes to the foxes found freely roaming the streets of London. The cute, cuddly fox I was introduced to as a child by watching Disney’s, ‘The Fox and the Hound’, was clearly not the same species as the UK’s ‘Urban Fox’.

Growing up in the States, I was taught that a fox seen wandering amongst houses, businesses or people was a sure sign that the animal was rabid, dangerous and should be avoided at all costs. This is apparently not the case here in London, where foxes are so prevalent you really can’t get away from them. I’ve read that the fox population in London is as many as 28 foxes per square mile! 

You’ve probably seen or heard them yourself—with a cry not dissimilar from that of a screaming woman—cavorting in the city streets at night, scouring for last night’s leftovers in our rubbish bins. But the Urban Fox is not only a creature of the night—I have seen several in the light of day, like the one I once glimpsed sprinting down a busy Fulham street, dashing between the rush-hour traffic. Out for his evening jog, perhaps?

Since recently moving to the ‘suburbs’ of London (just southwest of the city), I have become more closely acquainted with the Urban Fox than I would ever want to be. On sunny mornings in the winter months, I would look out in to my back garden to find the Fantastic Mr Fox either curled up, asleep in a prime, sunny spot beside my garden shed or snoozing on top of my neighbour’s shed. When the snow came, my front and back gardens were criss-crossed with lines of little foxy footprints. Now that summer has arrived, my back garden has turned into a playground for two adult foxes and their two children. I recently made the mistake of throwing some stale bread out into the yard for the birds, just to look out a few hours later and see the fox family happily noshing away. Sorry birds, but there will be no more bread for you!

Lately, there has been something new to discover in my yard each morning—a chewed-up sandal, a dirty tennis ball, a tattered Frisbee, used tea bags, a dead frog… In addition to these playthings, there are the holes. Large holes dug underneath the fence from my side into the surrounding neighbours’ gardens, creating quick and easy escape routes from one yard to the next.

But the digging doesn’t stop there; the sly beasts have dug up my newly planted bushes and flowers, leaving behind some rather smelly evidence, apparently meant to notify other foxes that this is THEIR territory. I thought my garden was MY territory, but it appears that I’ve been outfoxed!

by Lisa Daniels

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