Jessika Coker - Juniper: The Happiest Fox

We didnt know it then, but our fairy tale was about to begin.

THIS WASNT AN AVERAGE LITTER; they hadnt been born in the wild. In fact, they were many generations removed from their wild ancestors. Foxes, like minks and other plush animals, have been bred for their fur for over a hundred years. Considered domestic fur-bearing animals, they have, over several generations, lost many of their natural instincts and now rely on the care of humans to survive. These tame foxes have well over four thousand genetic differences from wild foxes. The original breeders of fur foxes wanted as much fur as they could get per animal, so they selectively bred them to be larger and have a plusher coat.

Due to living in captivity, these foxes also grew to have a more friendly temperament than their wild counterparts and eventually began to exhibit dog-like behaviors. They became more docile, less shy, and more accepting of human interaction. Because of this, tame or farmed foxes were deemed to be nonreleasable, meaning that their dependence on humans and lack of fear of other predators made them unsuitable for life in the wild. If they had grown up in the care of humans, their options were pet or pelt. For a lucky few, like these kits and their mother fox, they ended up in kind hands, in a home, and with a new lease on life.

IT WASNT LONG BEFORE THE KITS began to grow, and so did the runt. She became stronger every day, but was more timid than the other foxes, often preferring the company of her human caretaker to her siblings. One by one, the other fox kits found homes in sanctuaries. Most of them became ambassadors, foxes that work with humans to educate the public about the species. But the tiniest fox remained. Then, on one warm May day, she finally met the girl who would cherish her: me. Shy and still small enough to fit in my hand, the baby foxs sparkling dark eyes looked up to meet my gaze. Little did the tiny fox know, her whole world was about to change.

To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world....

Antoine de Saint-Exupry, The Little Prince

A s a little girl, I spent most of my time outside with our dogs, exploring the woods that surrounded our home. I grew up in a rural area in the south, and I felt most myself when I was in the company of some four-legged, fang-toothed beast. My parents toiled daily to run their electrical company, so my only human companion was my younger brother, who would occasionally accompany me as I walked through the shaded wood. I like to think this was an idyllic time in my life, when I really learned to understand and love nature. Even now, the wood feels deeply rooted in my being. When I begin to feel stressed or overwhelmed by the monotony of daily life, I find myself taking to the forest to spend a few hours in solitude.

BRINGING HOME INJURED ANIMALS was something I did frequently while I was growing up. Each one felt like a small treasure, and the reward of watching them heal and grow sparked a passion in me that my mother tended to the best way she knew how. When I was old enoughabout thirteenshe signed me up to volunteer at rescue shelters and zoos. Working with exotic animals was like being in a dream. The first zoo I worked at housed a handful of predators, which I happened to have a soft spot for: lions, bears, wolves, tigers, and an array of smaller wild cats. I learned all I could from the caretakers at these facilities and I constantly craved more responsibility with the animals in my care. My childhood enthusiasm blossomed, and after my first job at our local animal sanctuary, my love for animals developed into what would become an unusual career working with exotic animals. As an adult, I began shadowing zookeepers, and after working for years in multiple veterinary offices, I settled on a career in wildlife. I decided to stay in the south, at a sanctuary where I began helping care for injured animals that were native to our area and educating the public about how to help protect them. It was then that I first began working with foxes.

ONE DAY, WHILE I WAS WORKING, a woman brought in three wild fox kits she had found near the side of the road. The woman said that their mother had been hit by a car. I looked into their crate and they stared back at me, wide-eyed. I watched as they stumbled over one another, trying to scurry their way to the door to investigate my wiggling fingers. I could tell that they were youngno more than a few weeks oldbecause they still had the signature brown coat baby foxes are born with that camouflage them from predators. My colleagues and I took them into the sanctuary, and the little kits quickly became comfortable with us.