I live in the middle of the city on a fairly-busy street, but I never know what crazy critter I’m going to see when I open the shades in the morning—turkey vulture? Carrier pigeon? Wild turkey? Yesterday I hadn’t even let go of the shade cord when I witnessed a crow executing a military-style dive-bomb toward the side of our house. Other crows quickly joined in and were shrieking in the crisp, frigid air.
I’ve seen crows mob raccoons and cats that get too close to their nesting sites, but this seemed much more serious. I was talking to my husband as I pushed my face right up to the chilly window and craned my neck to see what had the crows in such a lather. When I saw it, I screamed. “There’s a huge Red Fox heading for our backyard!” My husband dropped what he was doing and ran to a window at the back of the house. I flung open the door to our screen porch and watched in wonder as the fox bounded between our house and the neighbor’s and headed for another backyard.
He let the crows harass him the whole time, but at one point he decided he’d had enough. He planted his feet, whipped his head around and looked up in the trees defiantly. The crows grew silent. Then he marked his territory and raced off in another direction with the birds in hot pursuit.
There have been fox sightings all over the UW-Madison campus for more than a year now, and lately some had been spotted at the arboretum which is less than a mile from our house, but this is the first time I’ve seen a fox in my yard. It’s actually the second fox I’ve seen in a week. When my friend and I were coming back from our Snowy Owl trip last week, I noticed a small Red Fox trotting through a farm field. I was very excited to see it, but it’s even more thrilling to have one in your yard.