A Naif in the Forest by Darrell Berger

Wing Tips to Hiking Boots: Musings of a New, Full-Time Poconos Resident 

The dogs were interested in the back of our neighbor’s shed. They did not bark, but were staring with ears up. They knew there was somebody there and wanted to meet them. I knew there was somebody there and did not. 

The next day our neighbor told me it was a momma red fox and kits. For a week we avoided the shed, which was not easy, requiring of me some strength with the leashes that I usually have and some leadership in where we go, which I usually have not. 

I repeatedly looked toward the shed and never saw a stirring. Then one morning I saw her through the kitchen window. Momma held watch about five feet from the hole she had dug under the shed. One kit crawled and tumbled around her. After a few minutes two more joined. For a half hour they frolicked around and over each other, while momma stayed alert and kept them from straying. We had heard the mournful, banshee-like cry of a lone coyote in our part of the forest of late, and certainly she had, as well. 

Foxes are not usually prey to coyotes, but competitors, and momma would fight to protect her kits. A lone coyote could find plenty of prey much easier than heading for that shed. The kits would be ready to leave in a couple of months or so, but might stay. Foxes often gather in large holes as extended families, though I surmised that this would be unlikely, as they, like everybody who tries to make a home around here, would run into solid shale about three inches below the surface. That’s why they went for the shed. The foundation and basement had already been prepared. 

This photo makes the shadowy images of Big Foot look like they were taken by Ansel Adams, but it was the best we could do, as momma went hunting one morning. I didn’t want to venture closer or disturb the kits. This was one kind of social distancing I was happy to accommodate.