TALES FROM THE BUSH Befriended by a fox
A change of scene saw Chuck Graham form an unexpected bond with one of his new neighbours – a wild island fox.
Iknew I’d been accepted once he left a mouse at the door of my tent. It was 6am, and after this precocious island fox dropped off its prey, he sat there waiting for me to emerge from my dwelling along the rocky, shores of Prisoners Harbor, located on the northside of Santa Cruz Island. This is the largest isle in the Channel Islands National Park, and the most biodiverse off the California coast.
It all began because my normal kayaking operations had been temporarily relocated here while a new pier was constructed at Scorpion Anchorage, 10km away. For 19 years, I’ve guided kayaking trips on this chain of isles, but I’ve never experienced such intimate moments with one specific island fox.
When I first encountered him, he was the runt of his litter and could barely keep up with his mother and much larger sibling. At the time, I fretted that he wouldn’t survive, watching him struggle to navigate his way through a tangled web of morning glory. His family didn’t wait, so the little guy turned back, openly dejected.
However, it was only a couple of weeks later that he appeared alone as I tended to my kayaking and camera gear. I was under an oak tree and it was nearly dark. The island fox pup bolted up the knobby tree and batted at my head from an extended branch. Turning my headlamp on, I ran my hand along the branch. Back and forth he chased my fingers, his fluffy, cinnamon and silvery colours filling out his domestic catsized frame. I was relieved. Summer morphed into autumn, his independence grew and physically he displayed all the natural traits island foxes are known for – tree climbing; scaling sheer, weather-beaten cliffs; voraciously foraging for his omnivorous diet of mice, birds, reptiles, crickets and berries; and running amok over the kayaks. He even showed me how slow I was on my trail runs, as he blew past me and then expected me to give chase – I always obliged, revelling in his rambunctious behaviour and unbridled energy.
A year has passed, the pier is finished and kayaking operations are returning to Scorpion Anchorage. I think about what challenges lie ahead for my vulpine friend, but I’m eternally grateful for our time spent together.
S He was the runt of his litter and could barely keep up with his mother. T