The Vixen by Night A-Callin' Comes

I had another stereotypical late night visitor last night. To go with my tawny owl of a few weeks ago and endless cats, last night brought a fox to my driveway.

It was an odd sort of encounter, because the fox began it by pretending to be a cat. I had been having a little pre-midnight stargaze, watching Aquila rise over the church hall and seeing the darkly blazing ruby of Antares twinkling angrily between the trees. I sensed rather than heard soft footsteps, and turned round to see one of the local white-and-tortie cats skulking in the darkness.

As usual it ignored my "ch-ch-ch-ch" entreaties and sauntered off down the drive. I returned to my stargazing, and thought no more of the cat for a few minutes, until I turned again and saw a pair of ears protruding from a shadow on the crumbling tarmac. I thought the ears were rather long - comically they reminded me of Snoopy's ears in a Peanuts cartoon about "The Great Pumpkin"! - and it was only when the animal moved out into orange streetlight glow that its true nature was revealed.

It was another late night fox, another vixen judging by the rather undistinguished brush, and although she wasn't as bold and brave as the one I watched in town, she was quite happy to let me get to about 10-15 metres and take a couple of sadly not terribly amazing photos before she trotted across the road and was lost to sight under a bush.

Astronomy...it pays to be an observer! That's how you have encounters like this.

Si

Fantastic Mrs Fox

With a couple of days to go before I have to return to work after my time off, I was leaving an establishment of doubtful virtue long after pumpkin time, when I was confronted by a pair of eyes glowing in the dark near HSBC, attached to a curious yet fearless head, russet body and a bushy tail.

It was of course a fox, and evidently one used to presence of humans. She sat perfectly still, looking up at me, as I took picture after picture of her. Only for me to realise that for some reason related to seer idiocy, I'd have the cameraphone on "film" setting, and had produced noting but a series of short films of dark paving slabs.

As soon as I had got the phone onto the right setting, the fox trotted up towards Bridge Street and disappeared. I stood there cursing myself to the skies for not being able to record such a close vulpine encounter - the fox was barely three metres away from me.

I decided to follow the fox to Bridge Street thinking it would be long gone. But as I turned the corner, there it was, sat munching away on what looked like a Babybel wrapper with an audible crunching sound.

It being a quiet Tuesday, there were fewer people around, but likewise there was a corresponding lack of fast food goodies overflowing from bins for hungry foxes. Barely able to breathe, I crept closer, taking a few pictures with the flash on, and the fox again took itself off. I decided from the state of the brush that it was a vixen, slightly on the thin side but otherwise in good condition.

She was also very peckish, as rather than heading to the churchyard where I presume her den was, she trotted back along the bollards before sidling up alongside the chemists shop before investigating a plastic drinking straw next to another bin.

By this time, she was barely a metre and a half away. Done with crunching on the straw, she found some other litter to nibble at, before slouching off round the corner onto Cartergate. I followed her round, and she decided to trot back into the market square again. I left her at that point to carry on her feeding activities.

In all, I think I must have watched her for around 10 minutes, and felt very privileged to have had the fates grant me this encounter.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature

My Friendly Urban Fox

It had been a while since I'd seen a fox.

There always used to be at least one highly visible one in Newark down the years. The specimen that used to patrol Balderton Gate, running away from your post pub footsteps into the gardens of the sheltered accomodation. The family that used to live on Lime Grove, a vixen and her three cubs I once saw peering at me round a gatepost, heads above each other like a Disney tableau.

Another fox family I saw fleetingly on Middlegate once, feasting off the detritus of a Friday night, and even at work in Nottingham there was a friendly vixen who used to sit outside the canteen and take bits of breakfast cob from your hand.

But I'd not seen one for a while, and had contended myself with hedgehogs, frogs, toads, and the 24.7 tuneful warbling of robins as I transported myself by night.

Until recently.

There is a new fox in town.

I'd say, judging by the brush, it's a male, and it is a very handsome chap. It appears out of the church gardens, and comes to feed off whatever has overflowed from the bins by the...Fox and Crown Pub, where else! I'd love to photograph it, but Fantastic Mr Fox is far too canny for that, although he seems to be quite calm around people.

I love the fact he's busy scoffing away, three feet outside the door of an oblivious pub full of drinkers, and only I can see him!