London's Foxes: Time to Stop Foxism

---

A London without foxes would be a shell of its former self. So why are we still painting them as the big bad wolf of London? Robyn Stanton-Humphreys gives her take.

---

Brexit, Marmite and foxes are on a special list reserved for topics that fractiously divide our small nation. This month World Wildlife Day and World Book Day are hours apart and it is past time we bridged the divide and debunked the fiction surrounding London’s foxes.

To some they are the vulpine hooligans that prowl around the city, predatory scavengers that are a danger to small children and household pets. To others they are a welcome sight of British wildlife that bring a bit of the wild countryside to congested conurbations.

Since the dawn of time, literature has depicted traits such as deviousness, cruelty and cunning as synonymous with foxes. In Western folklore, the 12th century fables of Reynard recount the adventures of a particularly sly fox, whose exceptionalism was clear: “Now, when the king had assembled all his subjects together,” runs the tale, “there was no one absent save Reynard the Fox, against whom many grievous accusations were laid.”

Reynard is by no means an exception but rather the rule for the portrayal of foxes. You need only look at Beatrix Potter’s Jemima Puddle-Duck, the tale of the Gingerbread Man and Roald Dahl’s Fantastic Mr. Fox to see how little the contemporary characterisation of foxes has changed. In the media, the urban variety is a regular, unwarranted target for a distinctive mixture of myth, hatred and fear.

The urban fox may feel like a fixture of UK cities and towns, but it’s a remarkably modern phenomenon. One theory suggests that after the Second World War, the species colonised London because of the spread of suburbia; gardens with sheds provide the perfect location for foxes. These days there are famously more foxes living in London than there are double-decker buses.

However, this colonisation has been seen as more of an invasion by some less-than-welcoming Londoners. Some residents pay snipers to kill foxes for £75 per animal for reasons such as: rubbish strewn along streets infused with pungent vulpine urine; lawns that have been dug up; pets that have been pilfered and the distinctly harrowing call of the vixen – which has been likened to babies being bludgeoned – which admittedly even fox lovers find a bit bloodcurdling.

When a fox reportedly bit off a baby’s finger in its Bromley home in 2013 – the child’s finger was reattached by surgeons later – former mayor Boris Johnson backed a cull of urban foxes, a ridiculously archaic hark back to Henry VIII’s Vermin Acts of 1532, which nearly wiped the species out. In the same year, more people were injured by falling down stairs, yet no one called for all buildings with a staircase to be demolished. Johnson said at the time that foxes were “a pest and a menace” and then joked that they could be hunted from bicycles.

Some might suppose that in a more consciously enlightened and environmentally aware era, we might have evolved to a level where demonising foxes in myths and fiction might be a thing of the past. If it’s horror stories we want, let’s imagine a London without foxes.

Foxes are a natural pest control and London’s personal street cleaners rolled into an Alsatian-sized package. Exterminating foxes would see a huge increase in the rodent population, not only because they form a large part of the fox’s diet, but rats would be able gorge on the discarded waste undeterred, which would likely affect houses as well as streets.

Furthermore, other species - in particular pigeons, gulls and crows - would likely move in to fill the gap left behind by the scavengers. While vermin would flourish, the vegetation that makes London so ecologically vibrant would wither, as it is thought that foxes spread seeds around different territories through their faeces and fur.

Although we share the capital with around 10,000 foxes, they are strangely elusive. Seeing one of Britain’s last living predators in a human, urban environment is usually a chance encounter. London has an abundance of parks, marshes and wetlands, yet the wildlife we see is limited. To see a fox is a glorious thrill, a rare flash of wildness in a concrete forest as they tend to favour those crepuscular, otherworldly hours: late at night or very early in the morning.

On the rare occasion a fox ventures beyond these enigmatic hours they become something of a viral sensation. Last May, Twitter was plastered with pictures of a fox nonchalantly climbing the underground escalator (to the left of course - he’s not a complete savage) before riding a train carriage near Edgware Road.

Although culls are often called for, usually after a fox horror story, the reality of a fox-free city is impossible. Ecologists argue killing foxes would be pointless and expensive due to their territorial nature: kill one, and another simply claims the territory.

The way we talk about foxes and other predators is deeply rooted in our cultural DNA. It seems we can’t quite make up our minds about the fox. Its efficiency as a killer is offset by its beauty, its slyness is a sign of its intelligence, its omnipresence a mark of its adaptability. But why do we still feel the need to vilify these brilliant, adaptable predators?

With headlines screaming ‘Foxes are getting bigger and more deadly’, it’s easy to understand the confusion and fear surrounding foxes but really, they aren’t swelling to the size of small ponies. Contrary to tabloid belief they aren’t stalking around the neighbourhood looking for a fight with humans, or to feed on take-away curries, small pets and babies! That image is more urban myth than urban fox.

The main reason they become bolder venturing near homes is because people feed them – Joanna Lumley, I’m looking at you! Offering Mr. Fox half of your KFC bargain bucket or any other food is something London Councils warn against.

The bottom line is foxes aren’t going anywhere and we should be thankful for that. We should be helping our foxes, not persecuting them. After all, despite its pint-size stature the fox has outlived our country’s wolves and bears to become top dog among our wild carnivores.

Yes, the sounds they make are pretty horrific but so are the never-ending screeches of sirens that are far more common. And really, who wants to deal with the abundance of rats their absence would create? They are an important, beautiful and integral part of London’s rich, vibrant fabric.

#Robyn #Opinion