What Does The Fox Say?

“From the Shadows” Mixed media painting by Barbara Fisher

Animals have always been central to my life.

I grew up with a guardian Siamese cat who slept in my crib with me when I was an infant, letting no one but my parents pick me up. Her purrs were my lullabies, and she slept on my pillow as I got older. She also protected me from the dreams and visions that began haunting me by the age of three, and I was comforted by the fact that she seemed to see some of the things I saw, even as my mother told me they were nothing but nightmares.

At the age of four, my first dog appeared as a blond Border Collie puppy who came trotting out of the woods on my grandparents’ farm, and followed us home. She grew up to be my best friend, companion, consoler, confidante and protector for 18 years. I loved her dearly and she loved me, and I still choke up when I think of her.

And on that very same farm, I was happiest among the animals. I wandered the woods with my dog and my uncle’s dog, a half German Shepherd, half Collie, and the neighbor’s Collie, and the four of us rambled for miles. It was with them that I learned the trick of sitting silently in the forest, listening, watching and waiting. I learned to become part of the forest, to sink into the leaf mold and fallen trees. When that happened, the wild animals would come out and make themselves known, and I could seem to appear out of nowhere and surprise my uncle, the hunter, or the neighborhood kids who’d come looking for me.

And of course, I was friends with the livestock. I helped hand-raise calves, and used to spend mornings singing with the chickens. (Yes, the chickens would sing with me. It was very strange. They particularly liked old Latin hymns. No, I cannot explain it.) And my uncle’s pony was a special friend. He could be cantankerous with most everyone else, but he was always gentle with me.

To this day, we have a house full of pets, and though we currently live within city limits of a small town, my household has spent an inordinate amount of time living in country, often in houses either adjacent to the woods or in the woods. Even now, within Athens city limits, our house is only a few steps away from the woods that weave through our town, connecting to the woodlands that surround the city and then connect to the state and national forest land which mantles our civic home.

And those woods are populated with wildlife, and so it isn’t unusual to see deer walking on the sidewalks in our residential areas on foggy mornings.They stroll along, getting in a nosh in a series of yards, before bedding down in a thicket for the day. Or to have a red-tailed hawk swoop low over your head as you walk your kid to school, because in the oak tree across from the school building, there’s a nest with hungry fledgelings. Or to catch a glimpse of a red fox crossing the street as you drive home late from the movies.

Or, if you, like me, leave your upper-floor windows open at night to catch cool breezes, it isn’t rare at all to hear any number of sounds that our wild neighbors make in the darkness.

And that’s what I’m hear to talk about today—the creepy sounds wild animals make.

If you grew up in the city, you may not be used to the many vocalizations that I hear on a daily or nightly basis. And some of those sounds are bone-chilling, if you aren’t used to them. The calls can startle you, and frankly, sound like something out of a ghost story, fairy tale or horror film.

For example, my younger child and I had parked our car up at the top of the hill, around the corner of our house one night, coming from shopping. We parked up there because contractors were re-surfacing our driveway and there was a gigantic pit of broken concrete in front of the house.

So, we were walking down the hill in the darkness, and from the woods we hear what can only be described as a goblin cackle. It sounded like a high-pitched evil giggle and for a second, it made my heart race.

My kid froze in the middle of the road and hissed, “Mom! What is -THAT-?”

After my breath caught and I dragged the kid along across the road, (since standing in the middle of the street isn’t a great survival strategy), I answered, “That’s the grey fox that lives over in the woods there.”

The kid relaxed and let out their breath and we walked on, though admittedly a little bit faster.

He knew I had seen the grey fox just the week before one morning when I returned from driving them to school.

”Ooooh, okay,” they said. “It sounded like some creepy little goblin in the woods.”

”Nope, just a creepy little fox.”

Foxes can make a bunch of sounds.

They’re very vocal and for fairly small animals, are exceptionally loud. And some of those sounds are very eerie and sound like something paranormal.

They can cry like babies, scream with the shrill timbre of children playing, and they can giggle, chortle or laugh.

If you don’t believe me look up fox sounds on the Internet and get ready to have your mind blown at the diversity of strange sounds these beautiful creatures produce.

Then, look up the sounds of raccoons, and be prepared.

Yes, raccoons., those cute ring-tailed bandit-masked garbage can raiders, sound like demons when they argue over territory. Or when they’re mating.

When you see them on TV, you get to hear the cute churbles they make. Or, the little trills coos and snuffles that are their usual Disneyfied voices.

What they don’t share with you on the nature programs is the horrific screeches, howls, growls and snarls they make when in the throes of passion or aggression.

The first time I heard that coming from the woods right outside the window, I nearly wet my pants. It truly sounded as if a gang of harpies was arguing in the ravine over who got to eat the liver of an unwary traveller.

Instead, it turned out to be raccoons arguing over fishing spots in the creek.

Deer snort loudly and their fawns can bleat like goats when they call their mothers to come from grazing to nurse them. Bucks challenge each other with grunts the stamping of feet and the clatter of antlers scraping against trees.

Barn owls hiss like snakes, only louder.

Cougar and Bobcat mothers and babies chirp at each other like songbirds.

And after they make the cute chirps, they also scream like a woman being murdered.

Because, you know, that’s a thing you want to hear out in the woods at night.

Screech owls whinny like miniature horses high up in trees.

That one threw me for a loop the first time I heard it; I was like, “What the hell is Rainbow Dash doing up in my trees?”

Coyotes make a whole panoply of creepy sounds: howls, growls, yips and barks with some moans and manic laughter thrown in for fun.

Loons make crazy whooping calls, even in the dead of night

And many of these sounds, if you’re not used to them, can sound like the classic poltergeist or ghost sounds—-crying, moaning, screaming—or even worse—like spectral creepy laughter.

But that isn’t what they are. Most of the time.

We live in an age when you can hear a weird noise, then run to the computer, type in a description in your search engine of choice and come up with a video or sound file of that very sound, with a description of the animal that made it.

I’m lucky—I grew up traipsing around the woods as a kid, and have lived in close quarters with dense forest for significant chunks of my adult life. And now, I live in a town blessed with a well-integrated wildlife population, so I am used to these sounds, and in fact, love hearing them—even when they surprise me and make my heart race for a second.

But you know, even in strictly urban areas, wild animals have adapted to living close to humanity.

When we lived in Maryland close to Baltimore, we saw within city limits, not just literal herds of deer, but bald eagles and great horned owls. A friend of ours who lived downtown had a fox who came up on her porch and peered in her front door fairly often. Those little glowing eyes peeking through the screen door answered her question as to what the heck was giggling under her window at night.

So, if you hear a chortle, shriek or snort at night, don’t be scared.

It’s probably just one of your nocturnal neighbors going about his or her wild animal business and telling you and everyone else all about it.