Fox by SW
Of course, foxes have been urban dwellers for a long time now. I’ve seen a vixen with her cubs in the car park of a major city hospital. Our daughter had one who was a regular visitor to her city garden, just yards away from six busy lanes of traffic. When I used to take the Thameslink from Wimbledon Chase to Farringdon, another fox family had established itself as something of a landmark. People craned to see them lazing in the sun or, on a wet day, sheltering in the lee of a steel cabinet that housed the gubbins necessary to the efficient operation of the track.
Slick Fox by Immy
I suppose the point I’m making is that you probably stand a greater chance of spotting a fox in the town, than the countryside. In the sixteen and a half years we’ve lived in this deepest rural setting, I’ve only spotted a few. Mostly catching them in the headlights as they trot imperviously across the road ahead. Once in broad daylight, on the lawn of a neighbouring house.
Foxy, the friendly fox.
Early in the 80s, I interviewed a local man who had rescued a fox cub, and kept it as a pet. That would be very controversial now, but I found the visit fascinating. Jack Toms, his wife, and “Foxy”, were all perfectly charming.