My Friend Buddy: The Tale Of My Unforgettable Friendship With A Fox

I’ve never been a fan of the term ‘Best Friend’. Whenever you say ‘Oh, this person is my best friend’, there is usually someone else waiting around the corner who takes umbridge with this statement because they saw themselves as your best friend. It breeds unnecessary competition. Either that, or you end up in a situation where everyone you know says that you’re their best friend, and things become complicated.

However, I did have a best friend once. Someone who was gentle, kind, never asked or expected too much and was always there when I needed him. But what made him different is that he was a wild animal. A fox to be precise.

Most friendships start with a chance meeting. An unexpected crossing of paths. But my friendship with Buddy began when his Mother decided that my garden would be his home.

DARKEST BEFORE THE DAWN

2013 was one of the best years of my life. And for a while, I thought that 2014 would be even better. Sadly, 2014 was one of the worst years of my life.

Everything was slipping through my fingers like grains of sand. It was a dark time, and the future looked bleak. The thought of leaving my own home crippled me on many levels, creating a prison within my own four walls. The only place I could comfortably go that was outside of my house was my garden.

For many years, my garden was a blanket of soft green grass framed by a couple of small trees and a scattering of bushes. But somewhere along the way, it had become invaded by thick twisting bramble and every growing bracken. The more I thought back against the bramble and bracken, doing all I could to cut it away and remove the roots, the more it came back. And eventually, I decided to give up the fight. My garden was gone, just like everything else I cared about.

It was the end of spring 2015, and the garden was wild and overgrown. Instead of sitting outside in my garden with a book, I resorted to sitting in my kitchen with a pack of Marlboro, a cool drink and a book of my choosing. This became a part of my evening routine. Until one evening, I heard an almighty crash at my back door.

The sound was overwhelming. I thought someone was trying to break in or that an electrical appliance and spontaneously combusted. But upon further inspection, everything was normal. That’s when I heard the noise again and realized it was coming from my back door.

I looked outside into my garden and saw something that brought a huge smile to my face. It was three little fox cubs playing and roughhousing. A sight that you don’t see often. And who was I to just walk away and not pay any attention to this beautiful moment in time.

I watched for over an hour. That’s when the little cubs ran into the labyrinth of bramble, thorns and bracken. I thought they had gone home to see their parents. Until the following even, roughly the same time, I saw the very same cubs playing in my garden. That’s when I realised that my garden was more than their playground… It was their home. The only thing I couldn’t figure out was where their parents were during all of this?

The next day, I decided to explore what secrets were hidden behind my overgrown garden. It took a little bit of time, but eventually, I found the cub’s mother. She had come along to my garden and felt that it was the best place to raise her children. But sadly, she died during the process of bringing them into this world.

I carefully removed the body, overwhelmed by the fact that these little cubs had no one to raise them. And within minutes, I began to brainstorm ways that I could help. After all, I couldn’t walk up to the cubs and feed them directly. They’re naturally inclined to fear humans and run away from us. However, it wasn’t long before I thought of a way I could help.

Foxes are curious creatures, but like most animals, they tend to build habits. And the cubs had got into the habit of coming out to play in my garden at a certain time every evening. So, a few minutes beforehand, I would go into my garden and scatter bits of chicken and sausage around for them to find. I would make clicking noises while doing this so that they associate the clicking with food. Something that worked out very well.

Then one evening, I walked into the garden, clicking away like a madman as I scattered freshly cooked meat across my lawn… If the neighbours saw me do this, then I wouldn’t have blamed them for thinking ‘Poor lad, he’s lost his marbles. The men in white coats will come for him soon’. But as I did this, I felt like something was different. I felt like I was being watched. And to my surprise, I was.

As I tossed meat around, I looked up, and in the bushes, I could see a pair of eyes watching me. They had a golden huge to them, and they didn’t blink. Nervous, I grabbed some more meat from the plate in my hands, and I tossed it up into the air. The eyes moved as they watched the meat ascend and then descend onto the grass. A few seconds later, something had clicked inside of the mind that belonged to those laser-focused eyes. The bushes began to gently rustle, and the eyes moved forward until they came out of the bushes and revealed themselves to be one of the foxes.

I had never been in a position like this before. I didn’t know whether I should keep still or creep backwards towards my home. The fox glided across the grass, sniffing and occasionally picking up the meat in his mouth. If it was a bit of chicken he found, he would chew it and then swallow. If it was a bit of sausage he found, he wouldn’t waste time chewing. It went straight down the hatch.

It only took a few moments, but after a couple of bites, the fox strolled towards me and sat at my feet. He looked up at me with those golden eyes, and it was clear that he knew I was of no threat to him. He sat patiently and watched every small move I made.

I didn’t know what to do. So I grabbed the last pieces of meat that remained on the plate I had brought outside with me and dropped it on the floor in front of him. He looked down at the meat, then back up at me, and then down at the meat again before tucking in.

I wondered how he would respond to me if I spoke. But I didn’t know what to say. I mean, it’s not like he had a master’s degree in the English language, but I didn’t just want to make random noises. So I opened my mouth and said ‘Hey, Buddy. You like that’? And judging by the way he licked his lips and waited for me to give him more food, I think the answer was a resounding 'yes’.

AND SO IT BEGAN

Over the course of the summer, Buddy grew and so did our friendship. Like clockwork, Buddy and his sibling would come out of the bushes and beginning to enjoy the food I had prepared for them before either basking in the evening summer sun or beginning to play. And when ever this happened, buddy would either sit and stare at the back-door of my home or he would look around for me.

So I would go outside into my garden, and Buddy would walk over to me and sit by my feet. Each time this happened, I would say to him, ‘Hi, Buddy! How are you today’?

He had no idea what the Hell I was saying. However, he did recognize that I would keep saying the word ‘Buddy’.

One day, I went into my garden to feed the foxes, and for some unknown reason, I said, ‘Bu-ddy!’. And by the time the final syllable fell out of my mouth, I could hear scrabbling on fences. It turned out that Buddy was exploring other gardens, heard me call, and he instantly came to me by climbing over the garden fences. I was so pleased to see him that I didn’t realize it straight away, but that clever little fox recognised and remembered the word ‘Buddy’ and recognised it as his name…The clever little devil.

Every day, myself and Buddy would spend a little time together. I don’t know how, but the friendship with this fox managed to get me to face my fears, and before long I was able to leave the house again. It had been some time, so it was a little alien to me at first. But it was the only way to obtain some toys for my furry little friend.

One morning, I woke up to discover a strange orange and yellow object in the middle of my garden. I investigated it to discover that it was an orange and yellow football that Buddy had found in someone else garden while I was sleeping. It had been completely deflated and was covered in teeth marks, letting me know that upon discovering it, Buddy felt the best course of action was to murder the football and then bring it’s carcass back to my garden for all to see.

Because of this, I decided to invest in some toys for him. I started off with a couple of Tennis balls, which he decided to pull apart and then bury. That’s when I decided to buy him a couple of rope toys. Once again, he buried them. Then I bought him a large silver football all of his own…He didn’t bury it. But he did tear it apart.

It was clear at this point that he only wanted two things. Food and time with myself. Especially as spending time with me usually resulted in him being fed.

I began to feed him ‘Chappie’, a brand of dog food here in the UK. But the only way to give it to him was to put in a paper bowl. And whenever he saw a paper bowl he would creep up towards it like it was a chicken that he could hunt. Then when he was close enough, he would bite on the edge of the paper bowl and run for his life, not realising that all of the dog food fell out in the process and all he had was an empty paper bowl.

He did learn eventually not to steal the bowl, and instead eat from it. And when he did, he loved it. Not a crumb went to waste.

But things changed when one evening, I brought him some fresh chicken. I laid it on the ground for him to eat it, and he wouldn’t. He just stared at my hand that was holding the rest of the chicken that he wanted, and then he would look at me. I didn’t understand what he was trying to say. Was the chicken off? Had he decided that he no longer wanted chicken and just wanted dog food?

I crouched down until I was at his eye level. I had spent enough time with him to feel very comfortable in his presence. I took a piece of the chicken and held it out for him. Something I wouldn’t have normally done.

He strolled over, tilted his head and took the chicken directly from my hand. Something that I do not recommend any to do. Regardless of how tame they are, Foxes are still wild animals, and you need to be very careful. However, Buddy trusted me, so I trusted him, and he was very happy with the results.

Eventually, the summer faded away, allowing Autumn and winter to roll on in. Just as I was beginning to wear more layers, Buddy’s winter coat grew, and it looked magnificent. What made it better is that he had the personality of a grumpy old man who was stuck in a foxes body. But he loved getting to spend time with me.

One evening during the winter, a rogue fox had found its way into my garden, and it started a fight with Buddy. So I went out into my garden, and upon dosing so, Buddy ran over to me and hid behind my legs as I told the rogue fox where to go.

But then, the wheel of fortune began to turn, and soon Winter was turning to spring. Buddy still lived in my garden, but his other two siblings had gone off to find a place of their own. So it was a delightful surprise when I discovered that Buddy had a girlfriend.

It must have been love at first sight, because she lived with him and never left. Which was a good thing because it wasn’t long until Buddy had become a father to four beautiful little fox cubs.

It was a truly magical time and a wonderful friendship. But sadly, forever is a promise that no one can keep, and that is very true even in friendship.

ALL GOOD THINGS…

It had been five years since Buddy and I began our friendship. It was a bond that was unbreakable. During that time he had raised several fox cubs, each of which had their own unique personalities. He was great at being their Dad. He always had time to play with them, but he wasn’t afraid to teach them a lesson when they needed it.

But our friendship was about to face the biggest of challenges.

2020 had just begun. My birthday was on the horizon and in the news, there was talk of a new virus that could harm everyone across the globe. Something that I thought was nothing more than just a horror story designed to instil us all with fear.

Then, one day, the news broke. The prime minister had issued a nationwide lockdown. Everyone had to stay at home.

It was a couple of days into the lockdown and I saw Buddy wandering around my garden. So, as always, I stepped outside to spend a bit of time with him in my garden. But something wasn’t right.

He wouldn’t come near me. He kept his distance, making the overgrown garden feel like it was completely empty. It was almost like he had heard the news about social distancing and took it very seriously. If I stepped closer to him, he would step backwards, keeping a gap so large between us that even the sunshine had trouble filling it up.

‘What’s wrong, Buddy,’ I said. He just stared at me. That moment of silence let me know that something wasn’t right. It was only a few seconds, his eyes locked with mine, and then he turned away from me and left my garden for the very last time, never to return.

I swear that amazing little creature knew that his time had come, and he wanted to say goodbye. He wanted to thank me for the friendship but he couldn’t talk. All he could do was stare at me with those golden eyes of his.

UNFORGETTABLE

There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think about Buddy. That little fox meant the world to me, and he always will. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have gotten back on my feet. He came into my life when I was struggling with trauma, and he helped me to overcome it.

Many people, especially in the UK, are divided when it comes to foxes. There is a very vocal group of people who would happily grab a shotgun and rid the country of them… I am NOT one of those people.

Because of my friendship with Buddy, I have experienced first-hand the kind and gentle nature of these animals. Are they naughty?… Yes… Do they make some of the most ungodly noises in the middle of the night while we try to sleep?… Oh, yes… But they are also misunderstood and vilified.

Most people just witness the aftermath of them rummaging through our trash, or they find the feathers of a bird they have hunted. But Buddy never hurt a single bird while I knew him. Because I showed him kindness and fed him whenever I could, he would often lay in the garden while birds flew down and pecked the ground around him. One time, he fell asleep on the grass, and a bird landed on his chest, and it didn’t bother him for a second.

If I have any advice that I can pass on to you it would be this: Show them kindness. Show them love. Show them compassion. And when you do, they will give it back to you threefold.

Thank you for everything, Buddy. I miss you dearly.