urban foxes

I live in an attic. It is basically a (very) little room that was tacked on to the top back of a typical English terraced house. It has a good sized window which looks out on top of two long rows of the backs of other terraced houses. So when I look out my window, I see endless chimneys and mini-gardens stretching as far as my eye can see. This gives me the occasional view into other peoples lives. During Diwali, I could seem some Indian neighbours lightening of firecrackers in their yard with limited success. I can see teenagers drinking routinely. And I often see dogs running around and cats running up trees. So I was initially not surprised when I heard my furry companion start to make teeth grinding noises and growl at something outside the window. I looked up and saw something furry moving on the roof closest to mine. I assumed it was a cat. But then, as I looked closer, the creature seemed….well bizarre. I put on my glasses and looked again. Definitely not a cat. Way too long a body, and too bushy a tail. Still, it took me a few minutes to realise that the animal moving elegantly across the roof was a FOX. I have seen foxes before, of course, but normally in the countryside, near people’s cottages or dachas. Once in a very rare while my father will report one terrorising the bunnies in his garden. I had no clue, however, that several tens of thousands of foxes are resident in London. I decided to ask about. Iain, who knows the history of everything, claims that they have been here since the war. They got hungry in the nearby counties and migrated into the city. It seems they are a highly adaptable species and thus quickly became adept at climbing of rooftops to look for new unexplored rubbish bins and so on. The city authorities are well aware of their presence and see this as no threat. Britain is rabies free country after all, so unlike in other places where foxes are seen as diseased and dangerous, these ones are relatively harmless, provided you close your rubbish bin tightly. Iain claims he once saw one strolling down Oxford Street, weaving in and out among the crowds, just like a dog. This seemed far-fetched, but then Paul told me that one once followed him down the street on his way back from sainsbury’s. he had meat in his shopping bag, and the fox kept trying to swipe at it! The fox in my back yard has made a few repeat appearances, to the great annoyance of my own furry friend, who sees this as an infuriating assault on her territory. I wonder what she sees when she looks at the fox? And bigger, strange version of herself?