A sacred moment

Have you ever heard a hissing tree?

It wasn’t quite a cicada, or a baby cockatoo. It went on and on, and I had no idea what it was.

One of the best things about finishing fieldwork and being stuck in the office writing stats code all week is that I feel like going hiking on weekends again. Somehow, when I was spending most of my time covered in mud and reeking of wet fox, I just wanted to stay warm, dry and clean during my time off – let’s go camping? Nah, how about we rent a cottage? Continue reading

Talking to strangers

‘Are your fox collars brown with a big black lump on one side?’ asked the woman on the phone.

‘Yup, sounds like them. Why?’

‘Umm, I’ve got one here. My friend found it on a dead fox on the road.’

Damn, damn. At that stage, I only had collars on two foxes and now I was back to one again.

I picked the collar up from her friend’s letterbox on my next field trip and sure enough it was Fern’s. Talk about a death-wish! The first fox I ever caught, she had been slightly too small to collar back in December, just an over-grown cub. Then I had re-caught her in late January and been so happy to find that she’d gained enough weight to fit with a GPS collar.

'Gully' - the other fox I had collared at the time

‘Gully’ – the other fox I had collared at the time

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