Twelve feet from the end of my vegetable garden, a family of foxes has set up home in a culvert which runs under the .25 mile drive up to our house. Four kits and two adults.

Though we see them daily, and have been as close as ten feet away, my camera is crap, so no outstanding snaps for you. The little barking monsters are strangely resistant to just standing there to let me take their picture, or better, yet, to hold a lovely pose while I run back to the house to fetch a camera.

Here, three kits, about 20 feet away, display their annoyance at being spied upon by getting up and moving about just as I take a snap.

A little better focus this time, two kits grappling in the driveway.

Here is my garden, where foxes leave poop and the debris of their dinner.

And here is dinner. The spine of a doe, an unsavory smell, and a small army of flies is all that remains.

“HAHAHA! You can’t catch us! You can’t even get a decent snapshot! We shall stand over here and watch you, and make ‘YIP!’ noises, and when you are gone, we will poop in the bean patch!”

I am wrestling with my conscience over whether or not I should buy a good camera just to take pictures of foxes, since artists should be putting their money into making art. But maybe I can justify it by, I dunno, making a book out of this at some point…yeah…