Animal Story, Blog, Buffalo, Foxes | March 11, 2012
When Firefly the fox came to live with us Jean decided to take her around and introduce her to all her new family. He took her to Bluebell the buffalo girl who immediately accepted her into the Earthfire herd.
Animal Story, Blog, Foxes | February 17, 2012
Firefly had been exquisite. She is now a bedraggled little mess but we hope she will soon be exquisite again.
She was not her usual vibrant feisty self last month. She spent most of her time hiding in her box. We waited a couple of days to see if it was temporary but when we saw her shaking, that was it. Poor Wamaka had to go back outside. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t want to. He had adapted just fine to the attention and warmth and being in the center of things. He and Cucumber had reached an accommodation. He loved the meditations. He had fallen in love with Talkeetna who came in each after Cucumber went back out. Not to mention the help being indoors in winter gave him physically. But there is only room for species that get along in our tiny living room and Firefly needed to come in to the warmth.
It soon became clear that something was very wrong, though we could see nothing obvious. We brought her to Don the vet. She was so sweet, letting him this stranger handle her in a strange room and situation. He poked and prodded and lifted and listened and squeezed and looked in her mouth…and she just let him. He kept remarking on it.
Her temperature was normal. Her vital signs were normal. Her blood work was normal. We pointed out that her feet and face seemed swollen. As Don examined her face he was puzzled. He looked at it more closely. Then he shaved a patch of fur off her cheek. What we saw was horrible. Under that exquisite thick luxuriant fur coat was a thick oozing crust, with deep fissures and cracks. Wherever he looked, there it was. Her whole little body, under that luxurious coat, was covered with thick cracked crust. He had never seen anything like it. He suspected some sort of autoimmune problem. He didn’t know what to do for her.
He gave her antibiotics for the open wounds, took biopsies to send to the lab, gave us pain pills, and sent her home to wait for the lab results, which would take 10 days or so. A couple of days later, seeing her suffering so, I called again saying we have to do something to ease her. . .we just can’t wait. He mentioned that the next day he noticed little bite marks on his arms – that perhaps we should treat her for a mite infection while we waited, even though she was not scratching or showing any other typical symptoms. Desperate for her, I took her to Summer, another vet, for a second opinion and mentioned Don’s suspicion. She took a scraping of her skin, looked under the microscope- and there they were. Tons of little mites. Firefly had an overwhelming infestation. Summer too had never seen anything like it.
We treated her for the mites. She continued to look utterly miserable for the next several days. I kept telling her- a couple more days and you’ll feel better. It was as much for me as for her- for a couple of days she looked so miserable I was afraid I would wake up and find a limp little body. But gradually, she started to come back to life. As her skin began to heal from the inside out her fur started to come out in clumps attached to quarter- inch thick pieces of crust. Every now and then she would give us quick little licks. . . so sweet. So expressive.
After two weeks we felt she was well enough to put her back out where she could get sunshine and exercise. She looked a mess but she was healing. On one visit, while Jean was petting her, he instinctively started to pull off some of the clumps, squeezing the dried crusts till they crumbled and then pulling them off, grooming her face which she couldn’t reach. She stood there completely still in ecstasy, for a very long time, closing her eyes in bliss.
It will be a while before she is back to her own gorgeous self but she is on the way.
As fur farm fox, Firefly would have been killed for her coat at about 7 months of age, somewhere around October or November when her coat was at its best. We noticed the problem in January. She still looked fine when we took picture of her in December for our “Fox in a Box” Christmas card. Since the mites she had are not typical for our valley and none of our other animals ever had any problem, our best guess is that she must have brought them with her from the fur farm, and for some reason they became activated as her coat came into the unnatural fullness she was bred for and her immune system was not able to fight them off. My first thought when Don said autoimmune disease was inbreeding. Not only are the foxes bred for unnaturally thick fur, probably disturbing some of the genetics of their skin development, but this was a fur farm for silver foxes, a recessive trait requiring even more unnatural selection.
I am writing this story, and the following paragraphs, because my staff – Amanda, Marie, Skye, plus Allan, a visiting board member, all ganged up on me and demanded it. Sometimes I do what they ask.
The reason they were so adamant that I write this is because they felt it was a new angle on what we do to animals when breeding them for our own use. They are all totally in love with Firefly, watched her grow, saw how joyous and lovely she was, and her suffering disturbed them greatly. I discussed with them my own perspective, that fur farms seem particularly terrible, but in fact it is not really that different from factory farming. It is the idea that we use and shape animals for our own purpose without regard to their well being that is the underlying problem, be it breeding puppies; factory farming, or any other life form we alter to suit ourselves without thought or respect for their being-ness. As soon as we started agriculture as a species, ideally we would have developed an ethical system to go along with it.
I was of two minds about whether to submit to my unruly, passionate, strong-minded staff. Is this the place to discuss these complex issues? You have come to expect tales that are evocative or joyous, is it fair to send this type of discussion to you in our e-newsletter? We get enough negative news and there is much joy and beauty here to share. I would love to hear your thoughts.
At least I can leave you with this. . .some humans caused the suffering to Firefly and other humans alleviated it and gave her a chance to “speak” about who she is and who foxes are and can be. To show her capacity for utter sweetness and trust as she let Jean groom her while uttering little cries of delight. To imply that that level of sweetness might be there with all animals when there is no fear; no need to fight for survival, only trust.
Animal Story, Animal Tales, Blog, Foxes | October 12, 2011
Sage the Fox
So many of you have responded, with caring input, to our request for suggestions for naming our sweet new fox. We were so impressed with the thoughtfulness; depth; intelligence and heart of your responses.
It was a long decision process. There were many wonderful, evocative choices…Elu, Estonian for life; Aditi, meaning boundless in Sanskrit; Kekoa, “ the brave one” in Hawaiian; Starlight; Sage; Sky; Onatah “ of the earth” in Iroquois (that was a close one); Onida – “the one searched for.” We will keep your suggestions for possible future use but still, they warmed our hearts.
Our first reaction was that we liked Sky, as many of you did. However we already have a human member of our interspecies family here called Skye; a fine representative of her species, (officially our media assistant but oh so much more). It certainly wouldn’t do to have two Sky’s. Elu and Onatah also felt like they fit well but in the end it was Sage, with all its meanings, that sat with him best. It just felt right. Simple. Full of wisdom. Blending into the environment here, where we are blessed with fields of sage lending it’s lovely soft color and scent to the land around us; sage, a sacred plant used for clearing negative energy so our beauty and innate wisdom can be brought forth. And so it is Sage.
We loved you responsiveness and will ask for your help again for the next animal that may need a name. Thank you!!!!!
Animal Story, Blog, Foxes | August 25, 2011
We received an urgent call – could we take in a sweet fox who had been someone’s pet and now was abandoned? He had been living alone in a locked cabin with food being thrown in sporadically, and the situation was no longer tenable. The exterminator was scheduled for the next day so he needed a home immediately. Many considerations. . . we had no room – but it was life or death. We could try to put him in with our foxes Feather and Lightfoot and hope they got along. We would have to get permits as he was in Wyoming and he would be coming across state lines. Could we get them quickly enough? The laws had recently changed in Idaho and everyone in all the relevant offices were still uncertain about what was needed, making it even more complicated and lengthy. But a warm-hearted woman in the Idaho Fish and Game office had just seen a beautiful young fox killed on the road and was determined that this one would have a chance. With an infected wisdom tooth, while waiting to see the dentist, she managed to pull it off. Kindness. There are inspiring pockets of it in the world.
His original owner called him Sionnach, Irish for fox. He had bought him for a pet, then abandoned him and his girlfriend, who did the best she could but was unprepared to take care of a wild animal she hadn’t asked for.
Sionnach came over the next day, one panicked little animal. We put him in with Feather and Lightfoot while still protected by the crate, so Jean could assess if it would be safe to let him out. Finally we opened the door. He raced for the darkest corner and cowered. For days. We hoped that seeing the other foxes trusting and liking humans, relaxed and happy, would reassure him, but apparently he had been pretty well traumatized. He was especially afraid of men.
He finally unfroze enough to leap on the wooden platform and hide behind the box there, which is where he still mostly remains. We did notice that food left out for him disappeared. . . always a good sign that an animal wants to live. We have had some who refused to eat, their terror was so great.
The second weekend he was here we had a retreat led by an animal communicator and healer. She spontaneously came to us saying we had to change his name. He was all tight and constricted inside and it was important to find a name for him that implies expansion. If that is the image we have in our heads, she said, it will communicate that feel to him. The name would help us maintain that image, which might help him feel safe to expand and relax.
So dear reader. . . we are open to suggestions. He is 3 years old and has a long potential life ahead of him. Feather for example is going on 14. We would like to do whatever we can to help him heal, from good food and companionship to changing his name, if that might help. We look forward to hearing from you. . .
Blog, Coyotes, Foxes | September 17, 2010
We have received a matching grant of $5000.00 for the Small Animal Garden! Now all we need is the match. Please help us 
obtain this by donating to the Small Animal Garden so our coyotes and foxes can have more time outside their enclosures. As you use PayPal to make your donation make sure to specify that you want the money to go towards the Small Animal Garden. The sooner we get funds the sooner we can start on the project before the ground freezes. Thank You!
We were given a wonderful donation two years ago to give the small creatures spacious enclosures but that is not the same as a garden to spend their days in. They need to feel the grass under their feet; to dig to their heart’s content, to leap after grasshoppers and dig for ground squirrels, to splash through a stream and lie under the shade of a tree on a fall afternoon with the sweet scent of fall wafting past their sensitive noses. For them we so want to build a Small Animal Garden.
I would also like to add a note of urgency. Feather, our sweet, sweet loving elder-fox was rescued from a fur farm 12 years ago – she has been waiting a long time and may not make it through the winter. Streak the coyote is 11. Thus we have made the Small Animal Garden our highest priority. Then, after that, individual gardens for the bears…
To make a donation click here
Animal Story, Deep Ecology, Ethics & Whole Community, Foxes, Wellness & Spirtuality | April 2, 2010
We visited Feather the red fox today after the deep snow of the night. She was her usual lovely sweet mischievous self, fur full and glossy. We brought her some guests, as she always likes to greet everybody, her little 
inquisitive black nose sniffing, examining, assessing. They were enchanted by her sweetness, agility, curiosity; by her eagerness to meet them and visit with them.
She is an elderly fox now, with the feel of wisdom that many living creatures seem to gain with age. Jean went to a fur farm some 11 years ago and bought her as a little kit. (It always astounds me that you can go “buy” a wild animal.) That is eleven years of life given to her; eleven years of life for that dancing diminutive piece of vitality. One out of 800 foxes!
So many questions: a Buddhist who visited her wondered aloud – what was her karma that she was picked out of 800 foxes, to come here and have a life? I don’t know, but I do know that she has done a splendid job helping people see the magic of foxes; of balancing the fact that yes they sometimes do eat chickens and cats. That difficult balance we have to find between loving a predator that is part of our family, say a cat, and also loving a predator that is not so close to us emotionally, yet acknowledging their right to live too.
So it comes down to family and tribal loyalty versus the recognition that we are all part of something larger.
Animal Story, Blog, Foxes | December 16, 2009
Feather; rescued fur-farm fox, is nearly 11 years old. She is a loving, squiggling vibrant bundle of luscious red fur, bright eyes, mischief, intense emotions, curiosity, intelligence and acrobatic grace, one of the miracles of life on this earth. The average life-span for a fox in a fur farm is 1-2 years. She is a single living testament to the lives of all the foxes who were not rescued – what they might have been. Lives they might have lived. Eleven years of loving and living and the joy of being in an astounding body that is a fox. To bring them into this world to live in a tiny mesh cage; never to get out; vitality constrained and unexpressed, forced to bring life into this world only to have their babies taken away year after year to be killed for some person’s luxury – what that must do to our collective human soul!
Foxes | November 18, 2009
The call came on a Sunday morning – a kindly couple had seen a baby fox lying in front of its den alone and weak. They placed him in front of the opening hoping his mother would take him in, but she acted as if he were non-existent. Unable to watch him die, they brought him in and tried to nurse him but something was wrong … could we take care of it? Our facilities were full, we had no room but …
We drove down to pick up the tiny red thing and brought it home. He seemed to be about a month old. His mother had to have taken care of him to have reached that age. Why did she abandon him? He seemed a bit dazed, uninterested in food or water. After a few hours we got him to test out a huge juicy blackberry we had slightly squeezed so he could taste the juice. Perhaps the fact that there were such delicious things in life made him want to live, but whatever the reason there was little problem with his appetite after that.
At first we couldn’t understand why he was abandoned. Renard thrived, happily destroying anything in the house he could get his teeth into which was everything, considering his agility. He would start on the floor level racing in a blur of fur through what must have been a fox heaven obstacle course – he hid behind the stove, the table, under the table cloth, behind chairs, dashing from behind, rushing past our feet at full speed with a quick little playful nip at our ankles, then looking back to see the reaction and asking us to chase him, taking wicked delight at my ever-surprised “ouch” that was part of the game. He made it through spaces a mouse couldn’t find. As he got warmed up he would start on the second tier, leaping from table top to back of chair to desktop sending papers flying and cascading – then finally in an ecstasy of speed he would progress to the third level, defying gravity, his momentum literally taking him up walls to the tops of book shelves, happily showering the floor with long forgotten knicknacks and other things above my head and thus out of memory. Finally exhausted (he and we), we would pick him up, cuddle him, and put him back in his box. He played sweetly with Boychuk, our German Shepard, whom he adored. Tiny red and large shiny black bodies snuggling together emanating contentment … sharp little fox face with mouth open in delight as he made a playground of Boychuck’s body to be jumped over, on, leapt around, fiercely attacked and generally harassed. We were second choice playmates but were accepted too … I would roll him gently on his back and he would fiercely mock-attack my hand and push up with all fours. Everything was done with full energy.
One day we looked over to see him standing stock-still and looking odd … he seemed disoriented and frightened and didn’t seem to know where he was. The episode passed but a few days later he fell to the floor in convulsions. We rushed him to the vet, who diagnosed epilepsy. Somehow his mother must have known. The seizures became more frequent and violent. We would pick him up and hold him as he went through it, reassuring him as he would come out of it disoriented and scared. Finally we decided to put him on Dilantin, the same medication used on humans with epilepsy. After trial and error and observation we finally found the right dosage where the seizures disappeared but he was not drugged and drowsy.
The summer months passed as in a beautiful dream. We went for long walks, humans, dog and fox, he a whirling dervish of activity leaping over logs and sage, dashing back to us for security and off again in a flash of vitality. Bonded to humans, he made hundreds of human friends as he went to schools and workshops, charming everyone and striking a blow for fox awareness. In one class of 50 he went around to every single person, exploring their feet, greeting, pulling shoelaces, turning over and entering pocket books, putting forepaws on legs and looking up inquisitively. He seemed to take extra pleasure in life, perhaps because he nearly lost it.
One day I looked out and to my consternation saw him having a seizure — a big one. As I rushed out he suddenly froze in position, rigid, the life in him gone in a flash. He was four months old.
Four months of joyous life for Renard, stolen from death. Four months of intensive educating of humans. An abbreviation of a life which only underscored the preciousness of our time on earth. He lived it to the fullest. I have never experienced an animal enjoying every moment, as intensely, as did Renard.
After his passing one of his human admirers saw a dead fox on the road. Because of knowing Renard she stopped and carried her into the woods where her body wouldn’t be mindlessly ground into the tarmac. She arranged it, covered it, and said a prayer for her journey, giving her a respectful death, an acknowledgment of her existence, and passing.
Every fox is a potential Renard. Each individual life, human or animal, is wondrous. Renard, a vibrant red flash in the pan and gone. Representative of the dancing, graceful play of light that is Fox.
Earthfire Institute is a place to experience the profound connection between all life. 
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