She is the Angelina Jolie of Jackson Hole — the sharp-featured, slim hipped little redhead herding her brood of bushy-tailed kits around the Snow King Avenue meadow, her every movement dutifully recorded by the foxarrazi.
Sunday afternoon, when I stopped beside the road to have a look, it was hard not to admire Mama Fox’s casual attitude, as she trotted through the meadow, letting her progeny bound and scamper wherever they wanted, occasionally joining in the rough-housing when she thought it might make a good shot.
Seriously, you could have cut the cuteness with a knife. I couldn’t help but feel that she and her foxettes were delivering a performance. Maybe it was the stage-like meadow, with its glowing green grass, yellow dandelions, and proscenium of willows. Or it was the proximity to the foxes as they rolled and wrestled, as close up as they are on the Discovery Channel. Or it was the battalion of peeping Toms outfitted with photographic bazookas. Whenever the foxes did something just too cute for words, right index fingers clamped down on shutter buttons and the air rang with a clattering, metallic round of applause.
But that’s just my human tendency to frame everything in my own jaded terms. When one kit pounced on another, or two kits took to boxing, or one looked up adoringly at his mother, who would then turn her head a quarter turn as if she’d been practicing close-ups her whole life, they weren’t acting, they were just acting likes foxes.
But the canidae had to be aware of their audience, only 20 yards away. People were laughing and sneezing, SUVs were pulling up and roaring off, START buses were rumbling past, little girls were gasping and sighing. Somebody dropped a lens case and as it smacked the sidewalk, the foxes flinched, black eyes locked on us. But then they were right back at it, honing their stagecraft before their adoring fans.
Of which I was one, immediately. That quintet of five fuzzy little foxes with their unflappable mother were the cutest things I’ve seen in my whole freaking life. It must have been palpable, the delight that flowed from the audience to the foxes across the meadow’s log fence, which kept us at bay like a velvet rope at the Oscars. They were the stars, we were the starstruck ones, and it was hard not to imagine they knew exactly what was going on.
wicked fox shots and word to the ‘foxarazzi’ word.
what an experience and JH classic moment to be sure. we enjoyed dodging rain drops to take a few pics of our own this weekend. complements to you for the shot with four paws in the air – when they run they fly! you captured the essence of the event – with words and pics. nice work.
DG- Fantastic snaps, inspired prose. Photographic bazookas, indeed. You should be a writer or something. :-) I have avoided being a foxarazzi member, but now I will have to go see these little stars myself.
Great photos indeed and I am sure we all see the irony of the foxarazzi all getting up in the foxes’ grill and messing up their habitat for the sake of taking a photo. Kinda like loving those little buggers to death. If we have true reverence and respect for wildlife, wouldn’t it be best to just leave them be?
Yeah, the foxes sure look awefully distressed don’t they.
I think some of those photos should be on US weekly. Sure beats “The Hills”
K-I’m over it! Foxes..shmoxes..
Of course it’s always fun to watch old white men play -Who has the biggest lense. But… as a person that lives on Snow King Ave., I’m really really really over it.
sara’s commment sounds like most rmnp climbers after almost rear-ending their 10th fool in a morning when the leading car suddenly slams on its brakes, coming to an abrupt stop [IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD] at the sight of a mangy elk so that the whole family can take photos of it leaning out the car window…
then, after the session you get even more irritated when you realize that they could have gone golfing, played baseball, gone to the dog park, gone to the library, or even just sat at a cafe to watch elk stroll through town.
box up the foxes and ship em my way for aerobic cross training motivation: tagging along on wicked midnight hen house robbery. you get the elk!
yeah, it’s almost as annoying as those people in this town that have a bunch of dogs and take them everywhere! Oh you don’t like stop and go traffic? Take the bus!
I’d rather watch foxes in a field than deal with the massive construction wadding up this entire town right now. At least the foxes got a sick piece of land in JH. Single mother of five too.