Tin Can Foxes
31st January 2023
On April 3, 2017, I noticed a red fox with a distinctive bobbed tail hunting rodents along the shoreline on the southern peninsula of the city.
The fox turned on to be a vixen and she had a bordering on large and unusual family.
..... this is their story.
Saint John, New Brunswick is the oldest incorporated city in Canada. It is situated along the northern shores of the Bay of Fundy and at the mouth of the St. John River. Tucked away in the south central sector of the province, the Port of Saint John dominates the waterfront and is among the busiest shipping centers on the eastern seaboard. Massive oil tankers, freighters, and cruise ships are regular visitors to it's harbor. Partridge Island and it's iconic lighthouse forms a suitable backdrop to the history rich city. This region of the Atlantic Ocean boasts some of the highest tides on the planet and also some of the thickest fogs.
Smack in the middle of it all is a rocky, shore-lined strip of waterfront that has a long established reputation as a go-to-place for parties, drinking, and some of the more nefarious activities that happen when the sun goes down. It is known locally as Tin Can Beach.
Nowadays, this expansive area is a haven for dog walkers, ship spotters, picnickers, explorers, or for anyone who just needs a bit of elbow room and a breath of fresh salty air. Wildlife has also arrived in droves. White-tailed deer are frequent visitors here, as are a plethora of bird species, and many different kinds of rodents.
In early April I noticed a vixen hunting vigorously through the fielded area above the shoreline. It was apparent that she had more on her meal mind than just to sate her own hunger needs. Then she disappeared through a hole in a fence and I would not see her for another 3 weeks.
When she resurfaced, it was from a hole within an expansive foundation remnant bordering the the northern quadrant of the shoreline. And she had four kits in tow. Three red and three silver. Her mate or the 'dog fox' was there too, and sharing the expansive den. Some males partake enthusiastically in the rearing of the kits, others not so much. This one was not much of a family fox. He came and went at odd hours, always on a mission, worked the perimeter of their domain, mooched a bit near the beach parking lot but otherwise kept a low and distant profile whenever the kits were out exercising their legs. The kits nursed up until the first week of May, but then the game changed in a big way. The owners of the property that housed their den decided to erect a barrier chain link fence to deter the more curious onlookers, and then one of the local media outlets ran an online story on the furry family. This in turn, precipitated a tsunami of kit spotters, wanna be fox hunters, dog walkers with long, loose chains, and, above all, hordes of do-gooders with sacks of fast food offerings. Under all this sudden urban stress, the foxes moved out. The circus had arrived!
Accordingly, the polychromed family resurfaced on the opposite side of the beach, about 600 meters away.
The vixen was perpetually on the move, and always triangulating her ears towards ununcertain sounds in lieu of turning for visual verification. Energy savings!! The kits were growing fast and now had several holes or makeshift dens to dive into for rest and safety purposes. They were also situated on either side of an industrial security fence and for an added buffer of protection.
Red Foxes
The fox turned on to be a vixen and she had a bordering on large and unusual family.
..... this is their story.
Saint John, New Brunswick is the oldest incorporated city in Canada. It is situated along the northern shores of the Bay of Fundy and at the mouth of the St. John River. Tucked away in the south central sector of the province, the Port of Saint John dominates the waterfront and is among the busiest shipping centers on the eastern seaboard. Massive oil tankers, freighters, and cruise ships are regular visitors to it's harbor. Partridge Island and it's iconic lighthouse forms a suitable backdrop to the history rich city. This region of the Atlantic Ocean boasts some of the highest tides on the planet and also some of the thickest fogs.
Smack in the middle of it all is a rocky, shore-lined strip of waterfront that has a long established reputation as a go-to-place for parties, drinking, and some of the more nefarious activities that happen when the sun goes down. It is known locally as Tin Can Beach.
Nowadays, this expansive area is a haven for dog walkers, ship spotters, picnickers, explorers, or for anyone who just needs a bit of elbow room and a breath of fresh salty air. Wildlife has also arrived in droves. White-tailed deer are frequent visitors here, as are a plethora of bird species, and many different kinds of rodents.
In early April I noticed a vixen hunting vigorously through the fielded area above the shoreline. It was apparent that she had more on her meal mind than just to sate her own hunger needs. Then she disappeared through a hole in a fence and I would not see her for another 3 weeks.
When she resurfaced, it was from a hole within an expansive foundation remnant bordering the the northern quadrant of the shoreline. And she had four kits in tow. Three red and three silver. Her mate or the 'dog fox' was there too, and sharing the expansive den. Some males partake enthusiastically in the rearing of the kits, others not so much. This one was not much of a family fox. He came and went at odd hours, always on a mission, worked the perimeter of their domain, mooched a bit near the beach parking lot but otherwise kept a low and distant profile whenever the kits were out exercising their legs. The kits nursed up until the first week of May, but then the game changed in a big way. The owners of the property that housed their den decided to erect a barrier chain link fence to deter the more curious onlookers, and then one of the local media outlets ran an online story on the furry family. This in turn, precipitated a tsunami of kit spotters, wanna be fox hunters, dog walkers with long, loose chains, and, above all, hordes of do-gooders with sacks of fast food offerings. Under all this sudden urban stress, the foxes moved out. The circus had arrived!
Accordingly, the polychromed family resurfaced on the opposite side of the beach, about 600 meters away.
The vixen was perpetually on the move, and always triangulating her ears towards ununcertain sounds in lieu of turning for visual verification. Energy savings!! The kits were growing fast and now had several holes or makeshift dens to dive into for rest and safety purposes. They were also situated on either side of an industrial security fence and for an added buffer of protection.
Red Foxes