Walking the fox
My grandfather, Kostas, used to tell me stories about foxes before bed. You see, until the age of 18 he was living in a very secluded village of the Hellenic mainland, called Mavrilo, located on the slopes of mount Veluhi, so he got well acquainted with the local fauna from childhood. On the other hand, my first encounter with a fox came at my eighteen years of age and it was a brief one.
One night during my first year as a college student in the UK, I am returning from the students’ union bar of the Dudley campus (Wolverhampton University) to the student halls. It is a short distance walk in a proper urban residential area. Despite that, a few meters before the dormitories I spot an animal that looks like a cat. It’s dark, and I can’t imagine that I am about to see up close the carroty haired animal from my grandfather’s bedtime stories. As I approach, I call to it as if it was a cat, but the fox stands still. It takes me a second to realise that this is no Mr. Skittles, but a small sized fox. The wild animal doesn’t move a muscle, unlike me who starts to walk in an almost jogging pace towards the entrance of the dorms.
Eighteen years later I revisit the UK. This time not as a student, but for work. I attend a Nat Geo Channel press junket for the Car SOS tv series at the London Transport Museum. My hotel, located across Blackfriars subway station, next to river Thames, is only a 20-minute walk from the Museum, so I decide to go there on foot. I have the urge to enjoy the route, as a long time has passed since I last visited London, or the UK in general for that matter. Around 10:30 the interviews with the presenters of the show and the rest of the event come to an end, so I take the way back to the hotel. While walking next to the banks of river Thames, at the point where the South Bank Studios (ITV) are, I can see a small animal lying on the grass. The area is not very well lit and I make the assumption that this is a small dog. I take a picture, using flash to shed some light, and then I check the preview on the screen. I enlarge the image 100% and, yes, it is confirmed. A fox is lying on the grass, like a stray dog or cat would do.
My initial thought is to leave. After all, it is a wild animal and I have no idea how it will react if it feels threatened. But emotion takes over, and I want to have a closer look and observe this magnificent creature. Also, the signals are kinda reassuring, since the fox looks very calm and doesn’t seem to be bothered by me being there. Without thinking any further, I start taking pictures from a closer distance. All my motions are calm, slow. At some point I get about two meters from where it is lying, and then my thoughts take over and I stop talking pictures. I just stand still. The feeling is amazing, it is almost as if we have some kind of an understanding, but at the same time it is a bit scary.
In the meantime, people are passing by but nobody pays attention. I guess, due to darkness, we are probably mistaken for a guy and his dog. Then, all of a sudden, the fox gets up and starts chasing a bicycle passing by, the same way dogs do. It chases it for a few seconds before losing interest, returning back to me. Only for a few seconds it stays idle and then it turns and runs towards a man walking by. He runs away as he sees the fox approaching him. And then the fox loses interest once more, coming back to me. I ponder whether I should run too, or go away because this silent treaty/understanding that we had feels changed for some reason. However, the fox doesn’t seem to mind my presence.
A woman who saw the incident asks me, “is this yours,” referring to the fox.
“No. I’ m just taking some pictures of it,” I reply.
