ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Sunday, November 17, 1996 TAG: 9611180016
SECTION: CURRENT PAGE: NRV-2 EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY
COLUMN: Dispatches from Rye Hollow
SOURCE: STEVE KARK
It's a rare day indeed, even in Rye Hollow, when one is lucky enough to spot a fox. In the 12 years we've lived on this wooded hillside, I've seen only a few; I could count them off on one hand.
And even then I rarely caught more than a glimpse - little more than a flash of bushy, red tail as it disappeared into the undergrowth.
Still, seeing them at all ranks near the top of the list of wild animals I've seen - a notch below the wolf I saw from a bike path in Alaska and many notches above the skunks that spiced up an Arizona camping trip.
You'll understand how surprised I was then, driving up the valley a while back, to see a fox nonchalantly strolling along at the side of the road. Even my approach in a truck did little to disturb him.
I'd never been lucky enough to observe a wild fox so openly before. Foxes are mostly nocturnal, though someone with a sharp eye might spot one hunting a meal near the edge of a field at dawn or dusk.
What struck me most about this particular fox was that he was there at all. Foxes generally don't walk down country roads, at least not when anybody might see them. No, they're a lot smarter than that.
Their reputation for being sly and cunning is well-earned. Were I to describe a neighbor as "crazy like a fox," I'd be suggesting he was especially clever, not that he was livin' in a 100-watt world with a 40-watt mind.
That, however, was precisely the thing that bothered me about this particular fox: he wasn't acting like a fox. When I saw that he paid no attention to my approach, I decided to see just how far I could push it. So I drove up alongside him, rolled down the window, and spoke to him. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.
Mind you, I generally only talk to domestic animals, as wild animals are touchy and too quick to take offense. Besides, I hoped that by doing so I'd scare him and he'd return to the safety of the woods.
Instead of bounding off as I expected he might, though, this fox stopped and looked up at me. Then, like a tired ol' coon dog, he walked over and made like he was going to jump into the truck with me. If I hadn't rolled up the window, I'm sure he would've too. In the end, it took a good, solid blast on the horn to drive him off.
Now as I said, I haven't much experience with foxes, but anyone could see that this was mighty peculiar behavior for any wild animal, let alone a fox.
Of course, the only reasonable explanation is that the fox was sick; it had rabies, distemper, or something like that. I'm afraid that's the only thing that makes any sense.
Though I regret the circumstances, I'm glad I had the opportunity to observe one so closely. I'll add it to my list. I keep a mental note of all the wild animals I've seen. They're important to me. Because the world is changing so fast, I know that the day might come when they no longer live in this part of the country or they no longer live anywhere at all.
I know that wolves and cougars once roamed in Virginia, yet I had to travel all the way to Alaska to see a wolf in the wild. And even then, I was lucky to have seen it and likely won't see another. I'll probably never see a wild cougar either, but I'd like to.
The Carolina Parakeet, a beautiful green bird with a yellow head and a bright red eye band, was once plentiful in the Carolinas, but now it's gone too - for good. The last one died in a zoo in 1914.
I worry that some of the animals on my list could go the way of the wolf or the Carolina Parakeet. How much longer will we be able to see red foxes in Western Virginia? I've heard that miners used to carry canaries into the mines to warn them that the air was unfit to breathe. And I've heard that we need wild animals to balance the ecosystem on which we all depend.
I don't want to make a mountain out of a mole hill. After all, it was just a sick fox.
Still, it makes me wonder.
LENGTH: Medium: 72 linesby CNB