The Collaring of an Endangered Kit Fox

She set out eight cages in the dry summer fields of Eastern Kern County in hopes of capturing at least one of those smallest of North American canids, the San Joaquin kit fox. They are endangered, yes, but they are also blessed with a small cadre of research ecologists trying to save them from an uncertain future.

Dr. Brain Cypher, the man in charge of the Bakersfield office of the Endangered Species Recovery Program, was away on some other business that day. But his longtime sidekick, Christine Van Horn Job, was setting up cages in an area called Bena (pronounced Beena), which is noted more for its landfill than its four-footed creatures scampering around the neighboring hills. I tagged along with a video camera in late August in hopes of capturing a bit of the good work being done in the background of our busy lives. But it was the next day, when I was away at work as a school teacher, that Christine's assistant got the best footage of a live fox with the digital recorder I left behind.

The kit was a young female, as evidenced by teeth that were in pretty good condition. While Christine examined her, the kit maintained a relaxed vigilance, forever alert but never becoming dangerous or threatening. I was surprised, in fact, at how calm the captured animal was--wouldn't humans flail about if put in the same situation? The fox wasn't drugged; if she wanted to put up a fight, she could have. But she didn't, and as Christine sat straddled over the tiny fanged quadraped, one couldn't help but marvel over the serenity of the entire operation.

Here is a composite of Christine examining (and later collaring) the one lone female they caught in the desolate fields of the southern San Joaquin Valley. What's exciting is that the little critter, after being released, lingered before disappearing over a nearby hill. Consequently, we got a great look at a randomly captured fox now destined to help save the future of her kind.

http://www.youtube.com/user/LaKessler11

Enjoy!

Studying a Nocturnal Kit Fox

Reseacher Samantha Bremner-Harrison had to figure out a way to study the elusive San Joaquin kit fox. They are nocturnal, tiny, and don't bother to stop and pose for their National Geographic close-up. Given this mix of challenges, Bremner-Harrison had to figure out a way to observe these smallest of North American canids.

Her first solution was to place stains, or dye marks, on their fur. Through a capture-and-release technique, the foxes would be lured into a cage with meat or fish, and then, once caught, marked with a horizontal or vertical "line", or double-striped with horizontal or vertical patterns. In this way, she could tell the little critters apart.

That done, she began to take note of the boldness or shyness of the individuals. In preparation for a relocation project, Bremner-Harrison will use these notes to help Dr. Brian Cypher, the assistant director of the Endangered Species Recovery Program, ESRP, decide which foxes would be best moved onto protected lands. If they are too bold, they lack enough fear to stay put and therefore have a tendency to wander away, making their expensive relocation a wash. If they are too shy, they may not adapt well, or get eaten by predators. The trick is to get a good combination of both boldness and shyness, because a healthy mix of various types can make the gene pool robust and ensure a better chance at long term survival rates for the overall population.

One of the studies done to differentiate between boldness or shyness was to introduce both positive and negative stimuli into the kit fox environment. Positive stimulus was simply a bowl of imitation crab meat set out. Negative stimulus was faking the presence of a predator prowling about outside the den. This second one was tricky to imitate, so Bremner-Harrison bought a remote-controlled jeep, cut the top half off, affixed a board to the wheels, and then put a stuffed canine of sorts on top of the board. To make the cuddly thing scary, a CD with a fox/wolf fight was played as the motorized predator was driven, via remote control, around the den.

The relocation of Bakersfield's endangered kit fox has not happened yet, but plans are in the works. Cross your fingers that the good folks at the Endangered Species Recovery Program can get enough funding to begin within the next 5-10 years.

Summer in the Pool

Yesterday I floated in the pool and listened to Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything

Even though I had a recording of an interview to transcribe, I took the time to "float and smell the roses"....as well as watch the hummingbirds flit around the Lillies of the Nile, and laugh at the scrub-jays hiding excess peanuts around my patio. Life is good not just for me--there is nectar for all.

I have a follow-up appointment with my periodontist today. Dr. Koh will be checking an implant he put into my lower jaw two weeks ago. After that, I'll do a little transcribing, and then head on outside to enjoy more of my pool in these triple digit summer days that are so common in Bakersfield.

Blissful Day Off

Spending time in the backyard with my scrub-jays, doves and sparrows. Having the first taste of a summer day off after five weeks of summer school and one week of training for a new reading series.

Heaven.....

Operation Toad Rescue

Ever since my husband and I stopped using pesticides in the backyard, we have seen a bountiful return of toads, and that's good, because I love the warty things. Even though our yard is Toad Paradise, complete with standing puddles and scads of crickets, lacewings, flies and other yummy bugs, we do have one lethal danger: our pool. Because there is no way to get out once they fall or jump in, we often used to find bloated dead toads in our skimmer. Because of this, I tried many things to help save them: I floated pieces of thin plywood in the water, created a ramp with my raft, and even kept the water level lower so that they could perch on the tile entrance to the skimmer hole and wait for me to save them. Needless to say, the next morning, I would be filled with delight when I'd check the pool and spot a big, beautiful toad sitting in zen-like serenity on his wooden lifeboat.

I've saved about 24 adult toads in the last two summers, but something funny has happened in our backyard this summer: I am only rescuing baby toads from the pool. Thus far, I have saved about 6 or 7 pee wees and am baffled that there are no adults. I wonder: have the adults learned not to go near Poison Pond? Are there any adults left?

One night, with flashlight in hand, I checked our yard for grown-ups and discovered there were plenty hopping around. Who knows? Maybe the dozen or so babies that I save this year will remember the sting of chlorine and desperation of swimming around and around and never again go near the big, bad pond. Let's hope so.

Here is a video of a cute little guy I rescued yesterday. As you'll see, he was sitting on the pool hose, trapped and unable to swim to freedom.