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LETTERS FROM BOBOLINK FARM
By Barbara Tatham Johnson

 


LETTER FROM BOBOLINK FARM

HIGH SPIRITS

By Barbara Tatham Johnson

The bright coats of red foxes against white snow startles me when I look across the meadow, as I often do upon rising, in the growing light of day before sunrise. Two foxes tumble together at the meadow edge in the fresh snow from a late winter storm. I rush to put the spotting scope at the window for a closer look. The pair caper and romp together with zest. I have read the observations of red fox behavior by British naturalist David MacDonald, and my excitement builds as I watch the spirited play of the foxes and recognize some of his descriptions. In recent years the outbreak of rabies in Maine hurt the fox population as well as other mammals that are their food and their competition. Watching the pair tumbling in the snow encourages me to think that their wild spirit and resilience help the foxes survive.

The larger of the pair flops on his side and stretches out, but he is alert for the pounce of the other and before she lands, rolls away and leaps straight up with fluid quickness. The smaller fox races away before he can land beside her. The male dashes after her, and the chase ends with the two suddenly flopped down facing each other nose to nose. In a cloud of white powder the foxes are on their feet, capering, turning and sprinting about the meadow edge. The vixen arcs skyward, lands on four closely placed feet, and thrusts her muzzle deep into the snow in a series of mock hunting motions. The dog fox sits watching with what I imagine is admiration. Soon he performs similarly for her. I watch their feints and gay rollicking with pleasure. The beauty of their red fur accented by black feet, muzzles, and ears is stunning.

I do not want the performance to end, but the foxes stop cavorting and, with no gestures of parting, trot away from each other. The dog fox crosses the frozen stream and moves out of sight into the woods. The vixen continues toward the house, cursorily explores the snow covered compost heap, squats to mark the place, and crosses the stream a hundred yards east of the dog fox’s path. She appears completely detached, even indifferent, to the intense romp I witnessed, but I am sure the two are paired and have mated.

A sighting of a fox, “The wild buoyant creature,” as John Burroughs described the animal, always gives me a jolt of glee. Fox behavior, a combination of the canine and the feline, fascinates me. Naturalist J. David Henry writes in his book, How To Spot A Fox, of the similarities of cat and fox characteristics and behavior. Both animals have eyes with vertically slit pupils and a layer of cells at the back of the inside of their eyeballs called the tapetum lucidum that increases their capacity to see in the dark by reflecting light back out of their eyes. Foxes have partially retractable claws, teeth similar to the dagger like teeth of cats, and sensitive whiskers called vibrissae on their muzzles. The fox and cat, focused intently on their prey, creep up and pounce for the kill.

Foxes will kill cats when they have the advantage of surprise. Years ago I watched the chance meeting of a neighbor’s cat and a red fox out on a hunting trip that demonstrated the striking similarity of each animal’s behavior. This time the cat had the advantage of experience, a strong and long claim to the territory and the element of surprise in her favor.
The large longhaired, bushy-tailed red cat, that I frequently mistook for a fox when I glimpsed her moving about the meadow, often hunted at the edges of the meadow pond. One summer morning I noticed the cat creeping stealthily among the tall grasses and reeds left uncut beside the pond when the hay was mowed a few weeks earlier. She stepped carefully and slowly, intent on her prey somewhere in the tangle. The expanse of open meadow beyond the pond greened with new growth, and a fox emerging from the woods, trotted brightly toward the pond in a direct line toward the cat. I sensed neither animal knew of the other’s presence. Just short of the pond edge, the fox dropped flat on the grass, then jumped upright with her back in a catlike arch. With her tail held low and between her legs, the fox moved stiff-legged and sideways toward the cat, who had risen, bristling and hissing, from her crouch to face the fox.

The fox seemed to relax and began to circle the cat, daintily poking her muzzle in the grass, lightly jumping as though pursuing a mouse, constantly eyeing the cat throughout the sham hunt. The cat moved a little. Instantly, the fox resumed her arching sidle and circled closer to the cat. The cat leaped at the fox who nimbly jumped out of reach. The animals faced each other, looking exactly like two tomcats facing off for a brawl with their fur erect all over their bodies and backs arched.

Soon the pair relaxed slightly. The fox returned to her mock hunting, but she kept an eye on the cat who crouched watchfully. The vixen, seeming to tire of the confrontation, suddenly trotted away across the meadow. From my vantage in the window, I watched her circle back toward the pond. The cat, in the meantime, moved to another location on the pond shore and concentrated on movement in the dry grasses.

The fox suddenly reappeared, and the cat rose and charged her foe. At the cat’s approach, the fox immediately collapsed to the ground. Pressing her forepaws and head flat, the fox raised her hindquarters so that she resembled a begging or playful dog, then she rolled onto her side, flattened her body, and kicked her hind legs with quick stiff motions. The cat watched this performance guardedly. The fox jumped up and repeated her actions, but the contest appeared over. The cat walked away with deliberate care toward the path she used between home and the meadow. The fox discovered several grassy clumps that required her close inspection as she trotted toward the road. With a jaunty fluid leap, she topped the stone wall and disappeared from view.

The presence of a fox or two on the place provides the surprise and joie de vivre that keeps me connected to this small and vital piece of Maine. No other wild visitors allow me to share such a sportive engagement with the world and to savor a unique natural energy. 

 



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