We’ve been living in Jackson Oaks about five years now. Kind of gotten to know some of our neighbors but like so many we’re busy so it’s mostly just a friendly wave and at most a short chat. Maybe someday that’ll change.
However we have one neighbor that we’ve gotten to know pretty well over the years, I call him Arthur because he is a dashing fellow.
He’s a true native Californian. With big beautiful brown eyes and thick shiny hair he could be a model. His jaunty gate and big thick bushy tail held just right… yep, tail. He’s a native grey fox.
Arthur lives in a hollow in the berry bush that wraps around one of our oak trees. Kind of looks like one of those fairy tale dwellings where you might expect to see smoke coming out of a little chimney on cool nights.
We’re used to hearing him make his cute half bark half cry which used to alarm our dogs but over time became an expected and comforting connection to the wild kingdom right outside our deck. I figured he’d let us know if something really weird was going on out there, good to have boots on the ground.
Arthur’s a pretty casual kind of fox, he’ll stand on one side of a fence and just look at our neighbor’s dogs who just stare right back, chuffing and posturing by kicking dirt like they were really ready for a scrap. He will lay in the sun right below our deck where he ignores our stares at him from high above. He hangs out with the deer who probably provide intel on what little critters are eating their favorite breakfast plants and where to find them.
He has a great sense of humor. One morning we went out to our front porch where Michelle had left her Crocs and there, very neatly balanced, was a perfect little pile of scat on the toe, thanks to our little friend.
One time he brought a foxy date over to the hollow. They laid out all curled up next to each other in the sun and we had high hopes our little buddy would just be himself and make this relationship last but we never saw her again. Maybe she just didn’t think it was funny to poop on Michelle’s shoe.
We haven’t heard from Arthur for close to three weeks now. I await every night for that familiar shriek and I look everyday for that sunbathing little guy.
I worry that something may have happened. There’s a mountain lion in the neighborhood, did he look both ways when crossing the street, did that foxy lady take him back but said “we’re moving to Santa Cruz”?
I love living in Morgan Hill with its rural charm and proximity to all forms of wildlife. I hope we make many more friends with the animals down by the hollow but I hope Arthur is the one who is there to greet them. He’s got at least one funny story to tell.
UPDATE 10.10.18: I have been told by many that there have been two dead fox found on the streets near where I live. This is quite unusual since I unfortunately see a lot of dead wildlife but this is the first time for a fox, and two no less. I always felt they were just a little smarter and more wary and did a good job of staying our of harm’s way. I now feel the dread of being fairly confident that Arthur is likely one of the fox now in a place where there are no cars or people who don’t understand their value in this world.
Please be careful when you drive our rural roads, especially at dusk, you never know who might be crossing without looking both ways.
