As a young boy, I had a real passion for wildlife. Big cats
were my real first love, with Lions and Tigers being joint my favourites. Any
shopping trip usually resulted in me convincing my parents to buy me a new
National Geographic wildlife video, which I would watch repeatedly from the moment
we got home. They would usually be videos about carnivores such all big cats, bears, wolves, hyenas, or great African animals like elephants, rhinos, and
hippos.
I still remember the first time they took me to a zoo, where
I witness the big cats close up. The excitement was intense and the thrill of
only being a short distance away from a Tiger was electric. The closest I had
been to a wild animal previous to this trip was when my cousin and I discovered
a hedgehog on his lawn earlier that summer.
I am often reminded when I discuss current work issues with
my parents, that after that trip to
London zoo as a 5year old boy, I told my parents that when I grew up, I wanted
to either be a zoo keeper in London, or move to Kenya and become a safari park
warden. I am sure the five year old me, would have words with the thirty three
year old me for my career choices
.
One animal that I didn’t need to go to the zoo to see was the
Fox.
I could keep a careful eye into my back garden and have the chance to see
them, and that delighted me. On my list of favourite animals as a kid, they
were easily number three. I loved them. And still do to this day. (They are
number one now!).
Foxes intrigued me more than any other animal. Why did they
live in my garden under the shed? How did they get food? Could I feed them? Why
did they have a tail like that? Why do they make such odd noises? Did they open
everyone’s rubbish bags on purpose? Why does my daddy dislike them? Can I go
inside their den?
To say I drove my mum crazy with my fascination was to say the
least. I would write stories where the fox would be the main character, I would
draw pictures for all of my relatives of the garden foxes, and when I was
seven on a family holiday to Cyprus – I was shocked to see I could purchase a
fox tail key ring. I had to have it. As an adult now, I find that hard to
stomach. But as a young boy, I really wanted that key ring with the full size,
soft bushy tail. My parents too had an initial problem with it. They refused to
buy it. Instead they used it to bribe me to learn to swim. Seeing as I was
heavily reliant on floatation bands, it didn’t seem possible that I would do
it. But the agreement was that if I could swim unaided by the end of the holiday,
they would give in and buy it for me. Needless to say, I learnt to swim pretty
fast.
It certainly didn’t appear to me as young boy, that the fox would
have been killed to produce that keychain. I think my attitude would have
certainly been different had I have known the truth. I hated poachers more than
anything, after those hours of watching the National Geographic videos, so to
think that my fox tail was from an animal that had been killed for fur, turns
my stomach somewhat looking back. But I was young and no doubt didn’t even
question it.
After that holiday, I was even madder for Foxes. One evening
I was awoken by the screaming barks of a fight between two rival groups of foxes
which occurred in the street outside my window. It woke my mum too and she sat
with me at 3am watching what was unfolding below us. The following day I told everyone
about what I had witnessed. Seven or more foxes right outside my windows under the streetlights.
Every car journey my parents would get me to be on fox
watch, looking out for them as we drove by. Once home, I would ask my parents
for a torch, and shine into the garden hoping to catch a glimpse. That winter
we had thick snow, and I saw a plump vixen sitting upright in the snow, looking
in my direction. I remember thinking it should have been a picture for a Christmas
card, such was the wintery scene.
I would watch (along with my National
Geographic videos) Disney’s The Fox and The Hound endlessly, and I loved it.
However I didn’t really know what it was about. I couldn’t see why Copper and
Todd couldn’t be friends. The Hound part of the film was not yet registering in
my thinking.
My love for foxes was cemented in the summer of 1997, when
my grandmother was living with us. She had been ill for a long time, and I would
spend my afternoons after school sitting with her in her room at the back of
our house, looking out onto the garden. That summer, our garden foxes had a
number of cubs. My grandmother and I would sit and watch, as they played in the
late afternoon/early evening sunshine. Watching those cubs was her escape from
her pain. As we enjoyed it so much, one day my mum brought home dog food and a
bowl for me to be able to feed the cubs.
Each night I would try to lure the
family closer to the window to be able to give my grandmother and me a closer
sight of their playful nature. At the time, I took what was happening for
granted. I was unaware that those fun moments watching the cubs, would become
memories that would stay with me forever.
Sadly my grandmother quickly deteriorated and
passed away mid summer. Those cubs gave me and my grandmother moments that only we
shared. It was special and always will be. Every spring/summer I look out for
cubs in my parent’s garden, and if I see any, I like to think my grandmother is
watching them with me.
I think I took a lot of her views as I grew up. She loved
all animals and hated the mistreatment and neglect that occurs. She regularly
supported animal shelters and a Donkey sanctuary, something my cousins still do
in her name to this day. My mother too was very sensitive towards animal
cruelty. One of the reasons we didn’t get a dog when my sister and I were
children, was due to the hours when nobody was in the house, and my mum not
wanting the dog to be lonely.
As I grew up, I realised that the Hound was out to kill the
fox in the Disney film. But why did that annoy me? All I knew was that posh
people who lived in the country side went on fox hunts, wearing their red
outfits, riding beautiful horses and a huge number of hounds in tow. I hadn’t actually met a posh person at that time in my life. The country side wasn’t a place on my doorstep and a fox hunt was something from another world that only rich people could do.
I didn’t know why the posh people did it, and but I knew I didn’t like it. Just because it was something that the elite had done for hundreds of years and called it sport, and in my opinion it didn’t make it right. I think like the poachers killing animals for skins and horns throughout the world, it upset me because the animal couldn’t fight back. It wasn’t fair. My foxtail keepsake from my first overseas holiday was soon removed from my memory box and thrown away. Sport was football, sport was tennis, and sport was the Olympics. Killing something so you can feel the ‘rush’ during the chase was not sport in my views.
In 2004 the government passed The Hunting Act, making it
illegal to hunt wild mammals with dogs. However, it is again in the minds of
the public, as there have been talks on whether to repeal this act. A huge 83%
of the population stated in December 15, that they should not make hunting
legal again. (source Ipsos Mori). It is reassuring to know 8/10 Brits are anti-hunting.
In my opinion it is barbaric, out of date, and deserves no place in modern
society. It is nothing more than animal cruelty and needs to stop.
Yet, despite the high score in the research for people being
anti-hunting, the fox is still a divisive animal in inner cities as it is in the
country side. As I stated earlier, my
dad can’t stand them, whereas I love them. He hates the noise, he hates the
litter they spread, and more than all he hates when they mess on his lawn.
Hunt Groups can partake in mock hunts, which should not involved any killing, but despite the hunting ban, real hunts still occur up and down the country,
without regard for the countryside, the wildlife or the landscape. Horses trample
over ground and property, and this weekend saw a video go viral of a large pack
of hounds attacking and ripping into a defenceless fox on someone’s private
property - a drive way.
Brave groups of hunt saboteurs try to prevent the illegal
hunts, and many are attacked for doing so. Only recently a video of a sab being
attacked was shared on social media. It is simply unacceptable for these people
who believe they are above the law to go on this way.
My opinion is simple. If you are reading this and you are pro fox hunting. Pro any type of hunting for sport, then you are scum. If you are taking part in a fox hunt, then may you fall from your saddle and you break many bones. I do not share anything in common with someone who would want to kill something for fun. There are many videos online of hunts up and down the country, shared by sabs and those who do what they can to rescue foxes. To me, the notion that hunts provide pest control is easy to dismiss, especially when ‘fox farms’ have been found, with the pure rationale to keep foxes to then be hunted by the pack. Videos of fox cubs being thrown to hounds to be ripped apart are hard to ignore and stomach churning to those who have any affinity with wildlife.
My opinion is simple. If you are reading this and you are pro fox hunting. Pro any type of hunting for sport, then you are scum. If you are taking part in a fox hunt, then may you fall from your saddle and you break many bones. I do not share anything in common with someone who would want to kill something for fun. There are many videos online of hunts up and down the country, shared by sabs and those who do what they can to rescue foxes. To me, the notion that hunts provide pest control is easy to dismiss, especially when ‘fox farms’ have been found, with the pure rationale to keep foxes to then be hunted by the pack. Videos of fox cubs being thrown to hounds to be ripped apart are hard to ignore and stomach churning to those who have any affinity with wildlife.
The fox to me is a link to my Grandmother. Whenever I see one, it reminds me of her. Seeing a fox is also something I love about being in London.
Most nights you are likely to see or hear a fox. It is like there is a secret
world unfolding outside your windows, where the fox owns the night.
My grandmother would have loved the organisation www.facebook.com/The-Fox-Project if she had been around today. A group of people who go out of their way to help and rehabilitate injured or orphaned foxes. Please check them out and show your support if you can. With cub season on the horizon they need all the help they can.
My grandmother would have loved the organisation www.facebook.com/The-Fox-Project if she had been around today. A group of people who go out of their way to help and rehabilitate injured or orphaned foxes. Please check them out and show your support if you can. With cub season on the horizon they need all the help they can.
The social media hashtag #KeepTheBan is
used by all the people who are against hunting with animals.
www.facebook.com/KeepTheFoxHuntBan
If you are interested in finding out more about those opposed to fox hunting and maybe taking part, there are two useful links below.
If you are interested in finding out more about those opposed to fox hunting and maybe taking part, there are two useful links below.
Another great group for Fox lovers on facebook is Foxy Fans United - the closed group encourages it's members to share their love of the animal, and to come together in discussing fox experiences and interactions. There are lots of great photographs and videos, which my Grandmother would have loved without doubt.
To conclude I will again tell you about the foxes in my
parent's garden. Although they do not know it, they have became a firm favourite with my friends and followers on social media. As my garden foxes were the inspiration for my own hashtag #FindFoxy.
#FindFoxy is a “Where’s Wally (Waldo in the US)” for urban
foxes. One day, when smoking on my back step, I looked at the garden shed and
along the rooftop up popped two ears and a handsome face of an adult fox. I
took a few steps forward and again the fox popped its head up to see what I was
doing. I took my camera phone out of my pocket and took a picture of the fox on
the shed. Now, whenever I see a fox, I try to wait til he is almost hiding, and try to take a picture of him, where it is not overly visible. Why not see if you can capture a fox in a “Where’s Wally” moment, and share on Instagram or twitter with the hashtag #findfoxy. Here are two examples - See if you can spot him?
#KeepTheBan
#FindFoxy
