We have a family of desert gray foxes living with us again this year. For the past several seasons they have lived in a burrow down towards the bottom of the hill, the opening to their den safely hidden under a pine tree that grows parallel to the ground. But this year, we believe they built their den under the deck in the back yard, right under my throwing studio. I find it oddly inspiring that when I am on the potter’s wheel, they are curled up somewhere beneath me.
The kits run all over the backyard, tumbling and jumping and playing. Mama fox doesn’t mind my comings and goings but she does sit and watch me carefully, repositioning herself so that I am always in her line of sight. Sometimes in the evening, if we leave the French doors open for fresh air, she will poke her head into the house, just to check on us. They seems to coexist just fine with the cats. Sometimes, I’ve seen the foxes and the cats just hanging out together, each one curled up somewhere, dozing with one eye open.
Foxes can be destructive though. They climb into the fruit trees, breaking small branches in their eagerness to get at the fruit. I’ve started removing the fruit off of branches that are too small to carry their weight. Between the raccoons and the foxes, we are rarely able to get a fig or a plum. The foxes track mud all over seat cushions and the babies are prone to knocking over planters in their zest for exploration. I think they favor yarrow because they have flattened every yarrow plant in the back yard.
Folklore has it that foxes represent alert cunning, inspired awareness, and the ability to quickly and identify and seize opportunities, all great inspiration for a potter. Perhaps I should design a series of fox pots made with the clay from my backyard. That could be fun.