Coffee with a Vixen

(from May 16th) At 5 a.m., I can have a cup of coffee and organize the marbles before the “let’s-get-out-the-door” hubbub starts. Ahhh… That peaceful lull guaranteed between 5 and 6 a.m. One day, I glanced outside to see if the Vulpe vulpes were up and playing yet. Just the mom, the vixen, was out – curled up quietly in the sun. I sat down on the fox-viewing couch with my computer and my coffee and wondered whether she would enjoy a cup of coffee. It wasn’t long before the first pounce. Then the second. The third. And she was on her feet. Then nine baby foxes were at her feet. She reached down and started to clean the closest one. Whoosh! That move was like pushing a “scatter” button. She immediately created three-feet of personal space all around her – with the exception of the one cub she was cleaning. All this without a sound, just a lot of scampering. Silent words surrounding bath time filled the air. “I don’t need a bath… I’m not dirty… Stop it, it tickles when you wash my ears… My hair doesn’t need washed… The itchy bugs aren’t bothering me… NO BATH!”

Later that day, we watched as the vixen was moving rather strangely behind one of the rocks. A little off-balance and awkward. Going to the bathroom? Rabies? After dragging herself toward the rock, she lunged on top of it and cubs detached from her and rolled onto the ground. They came scrambling back to the dairy, but she turned and gave them the eye: another “scatter” button had been pushed.

Throughout the day, we see the cubs more often than the mother. Three or four cubs will play in one area then move off or be joined by a couple more. All day the vixen paces along the ledge, keeping an eye on their wide playground. Familiar noises and movements don’t startle them. However, if the neighbor’s dog comes out or the kids run outside, boom. They run into the ledge. Occasionally, we hear the vixen’s strange, short alarm yelp. That is her “gather” button. No talking back. No “just-one-more-time” or “I just gotta finish this level.” The cubs head for cover.

Late evening, they all disappear. Bedtime. For nine. Now that I would like to see.

That vixen deserves a coffee in the morning.

(Speaking of coffee in the morning, nothing compares to a cup of English coffee with double cream... Uncovering the Real England: Cream.)

New Neighbors: The Vulpe vulpes

A new family has moved in behind us.  A mom, a dad, and nine kids.  The mom and dad were here last year at this time but with six different kids.  How could this be?  (Will & Liam love word play.  It’s rubbing off.) We have a fox family living in the ledge that we share with three to four of our human backyard neighbors.  For non-Massachusetts residents, ledge is another name for rocky soil – I think.  Picture yourself digging a hole with a spade, putting all your force into the “push,” expecting dirt to give way to the metal, only for the spade come to a dead stop, and feeling that “push” reverberate back through your body.  That’s underground ledge.  We have a row of ledge – above ground it’s made up of large boulders, underground who knows – in our backyard.

Summer and fall, our woodchuck lives in it, but now it’s a fox den.  The woodchuck was there first, which makes me wonder:  Is he the landlord or just dinner if he doesn’t agree to move out for a few months?  We saw the dad in late January, cozying up in the sun.  Perhaps he was working out rent payments with the woodchuck.

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Last year we watched six babies grow up, first spotting them after they had started to turn red.  This year, they are younger: brown with little white tips on their tails.  They are cute, strange little things.  They look like dogs but move like cats.  Pouncing & rolling on each other without a sound.

I didn’t bother to mention the family to our builders.  With all the noise they were making, I didn’t think the fox family would come out while they were working.  But the day after we first saw the babies, I got a call from the builder.  “I wasn’t sure if you know that you have an interesting... family living in your backyard.”

Yes, we have a family of Vulpe vulpe: the scientific name for "red fox."