A Fox's Tale: Survival in the Alpine Wild | Free Documentary Nature

For quite some time, wolves were the most common carnivores on the planet. They have since been dethroned by red foxes. This is no coincidence. Evolution has endowed foxes with remarkable abilities and extremely sharp senses. Their versatility allows them to adapt equally well to the human destruction of their natural habitats or the rigorous conditions of the mountains in winter. We set out to follow a leash of foxes in the Alps for one year. Mid-April. In the rocky chaos of a forest of larches perched at 1,800 meters, every animal thought that spring was finally back. They were fooled. Following a snowy winter, life seems to get in its own way. In the darkness of this cavity, the female has just given birth to five little balls of fur of 100 grams each. Still deaf and blind, the eyes and ears of the cubs won't open for another 10 days. The first two weeks, the only time the mother leaves them is to do her business outside the den. The male has regurgitated a snow vole. During the season, his role is essential to the cub's survival. He has to feed the female. The female is back in front of the den. She's hungry. Like all foxes, the male has a good memory. He has to climb 400 meters uphill and try his luck to find a few shreds of meat. At an altitude of 2,200 meters, a young ibex couldn't survive the winter. The local corvids quickly spread the news, which entices all the scavengers of the mountain. But only the bones remain for this young bearded vulture. The leash of foxes shares its territory with a dozen deer, 80 ibexes, and 120 chamois. No wonder there isn't anything left on the carcass, given how all the other animals have been feasting on it for four days. The big ravens are still there. That's a rather good sign. They should all hurry before it's too late. It's all gone in minutes. Perched and replete, the eagle stays in the vicinity. They've all helped themselves. Of the late ibex, only the skin and bones remain, which won't be enough. The female will have to fast for another day, all the while suckling her babies. The next day, the male goes hunting again. On the northern slope in particular, the snow is a stark reminder of this never-ending winter. This morning, the fox follows the teasing chirping of the partridges. Four weeks have gone by. In the warmth of the morning, the female fox goes on the prowl. It's one of those days that hint at the entire prairie melting, shedding its white coat to finally reveal the colours of spring. She's travelled a whole kilometre this morning, catching two voles and a mouse. A mountain view. A natural cavity sheltered from prevailing winds and facing due south. Two emergency exits. This house is too good to be true. The female jumps at the chance. The main entrance is upstairs. At this age, the fox cubs playfully battle for a mouthful of milk. The first served are always the same, meaning that they gain more weight than their siblings. This puny female is always behind. For these foxes, digging in this valley is a first. This new fox den suddenly makes life a lot more complicated for their neighbours, who have been using this remarkable underground network for generations. The problem isn't so much intruders occupying one of their summer homes, as the foxes considering the woodchucks as a convenient meal. For now, the woodchucks are so vigilant that the foxes of the leash prefer to bite into the carcass of a big ibex that fell from the overhanging cliff a week ago. A godsend for the cubs that are starting to like the meat regurgitated by the adults. The rugged terrain of the forest was once home to up to 11 cubs from a single litter. This was just after a gall epidemic that decimated all the foxes of the small valley. They have since recaptured their territory and the terrain now hosts about five or six cubs per year. The female moves away from the den in search of a little serenity. Around the terrain, the signs of spring are in full display. Yet in the valley above, suspended at 2,400 metres, the nights are still frozen and the snow lingers. The woodchucks are vulnerable. Aside from the main set, all of their emergency shelters are still buried. Given that they came out of hibernation three weeks later than the rest of the colony, in order to survive, these woodchucks have to draw on whatever little fat they have left. A standardised alarm system notifies the menace of a predator. A single whistle for a golden eagle and multiple whistles for a fox. Seeing how unified and coordinated the group is, the fox gives up. The wind has carried the danger alert along the entire descent that will lead him back to the dazzling greens to hunt alone. With her remarkable sense of hearing, she is able to see through the She's best at catching small prey rather than big ones. The cubs have nothing to fear from this herd of ibexes approaching the den. For the ibexes, after the hardship comes the time of abundance. Every spring, the rise of fresh grass attracts the males and even intoxicates them. The herd was just passing. The den is located in the centre of the living area, tucked between the stream to the south and the cliff to the north. The female doesn't wander outside of it. Just like the adults, the cubs have four canines and four carnassials, designed for killing, carrying and chopping up their prey. Those teeth can be genuinely dangerous to a nursing mother. The little female still struggles to impose herself. Mid-June, now eight weeks old, the recently weaned cubs demand more and more food. Two other foxes take part in the feeding. They rarely come into contact and remain discreet. Where are the cubs? They're claiming their independence and enjoy taking naps scattered around the forest. The little female is fascinated by butterflies. Her sister is sleeping while her three brothers relax by the old larch tree. One of them plays catch with a vole that an adult has brought back. In this muggy, pre-storm weather, the female eagerly longs for the fresh water of the stream. The five cubs are starting to assert their individual characters. While some are wary, the more courageous follow their mother to the meadow. Even though it's far from their headquarters, they protect them from the dangers looming in the sky. It all happens so fast. In a lightning-quick, masterful nosedive, the eagle dug its claws into the cub. The cliff bordering the fox territory to the west is home to a couple of golden eagles with an eaglet to feed. Every so often, a fox ends up in the eagle's claws. This time, the master of the sky couldn't pass up the chance. As a result of a sunny spell, he spotted the small male from over a kilometer away. Now, only four cubs remain. They rendezvous on the right bank of the stream at the last glimmers of dusk. There, they'll play until darkness falls. The cubs' night will be deemed a success if the adults can regurgitate food. As usual, the crow steals the leftovers, and the little female pledges her allegiance. The beginning of July marks the baby woodchucks' first outings of the year. They must quickly learn about safety rules and the other laws that govern the community. But until they do, the babies have to rely on luck to overcome their heedlessness. Foxes that don't belong to the family are prohibited from entering the six-square-kilometer living area. It features the den and a couple of resting spots, where the female no longer suckles the young. To the foxes, either you're a resident or a stranger. Following repeated incursions by unwanted foxes in the last week, the male keeps a watchful eye over the stream that marks the sudden limit of the living area. While on his guard, this vagrant fox crosses over the border. He knows full well that he's trespassing. But having lived his life on the run, this fox has been through far more dangerous situations. The vagrant comes from a valley about 15 kilometers away on the other side of the glacier, a seemingly similar environment, but with a road, a village, and humans. From an early age, he learned to live close to these two-legged animals that dwell in houses smelling of food, and to be suspicious of the proximity of this dangerous creature. Back there, game and carcasses were few and far between. His leash would wander near the village at night, mostly interested in the rubbish bins. Things took a turn for the worse during his second year. One night, his father decided to decimate a hen house, but couldn't carry away the four chickens before dawn. Two days later, a trap was set, and that was the end of his father. His sister and mother were later poisoned. Only two of them remained, then one evening. In the night, he headed towards the 3,000 meter high pass. He explored small valleys, went up frozen streams, picked up dozens of smells, went across forbidden borders, and learned that the mountain is divided into several adjoining territories that belong to various families of foxes. Then one night, he found himself in the rugged terrain of the large tree forest. He was still alive, but facing a new leash. Like 15% of foxes, he had become a nomad, a vagrant ready to move in the first available spot, but an individual with a much shorter life expectancy. He became a formidable woodchuck killer, and even managed to catch a mountain hare in the suspended valley. This morning, he went over the stream in order to hunt woodchucks. The dominant male sees the intrusion as an assault. This won't be tolerated. Hunted out of the leash's territory, the vagrant fox returns to the suspended valley. August the 15th, the five-year-old and former dominant female that had given birth to three generations of cubs hadn't been seen in two weeks. Her time had come. She died at the water's edge. In captivity, foxes can live up to 20 years, but as free-ranging animals, 90% of them don't make it to age five. September. As incredible as it may seem, the family of woodchucks residing in the heart of the fox's living area has survived. Thanks to an efficient alarm system and a network of multiple shelters, only two young woodchucks are missing. As time goes by, the days get shorter, heralding the end of summer. Fruits are in season, and everyone has to share. It's almost dispersion time for the cubs. Not all will be able to stay despite the abundance of food this year and the death of the old female. Internal tensions are rising. The line between playing and fighting is rapidly disappearing. The little female has no choice. Whenever she takes on her siblings in these power struggles, she's always on the losing end and folds down her ears as a sign of submission. A specific event is going to temporarily bring back cohesion to the leash. The air is electric, and the does are nervous. The wolves have just returned with their newborns. This time, their new resting place happens to be on the fox's territory. While foxes are independent hunters, this isn't the case for wolves. They have a higher success rate if they cooperate. Adult wolves are the only predators capable of killing animals the size of a stag or a wild boar. This explains the doe remains and the urine traces by other carnivores that the foxes noticed. Around this formidable canine, the foxes act with caution. Born four months earlier, the wolf cubs are still unaware of the dangers of life, so they take their time. The adults bring them back to safety under the green alders. They've stashed away the fruits of a night of hunting. The wolves are claiming the territory. At an impressive weight of 30 kilos, an adult male wolf is five times heavier than a fox. Their strength and intelligence makes them the most dreaded predators of these mountains. On the second day, the foxes wait until the pack goes hunting to feed on the leftovers. This pack of wolves dwells and moves around a huge space of 300 square kilometers of forest, pasture, scree and alpine grass. Their territory comprises two valleys where several families of foxes live. The abandoned carrion is equally coveted by the griffin vultures. What do two adult foxes do when they cross paths? Half the time they ignore each other. By nature, foxes seek to avoid physical contact. For once, the entire leash is here. In the tall grass, the long-established hierarchy is confirmed. The little female feels the need to leave the family tribe. She spent the night alone on the other side of the stream. This is the first time she's found the courage to wander this far towards the suspended valley. Away from it all, the wolf cubs have found a new resting spot. In these last moments before the winter, the abundance of insects and blueberries attracts birds, herbivores and carnivores alike. The weather is getting cooler by the day. Once the sun goes over the summit and the wind comes down from the glacier, the ground freezes. The seven wolf cubs don't have their winter coats yet. They huddle up in order to sleep. They all try to get to the middle, knowing this is the warmest spot. Seven cubs together can only mean the pack is nearby. The little female fox goes back the way she came. Life outside the leash comes with its share of dangers. Many foxes have borne the consequence or even lost their lives. This time, she highlights her return with signs that give away her escapade. To the resident foxes, it's a clear reassuring message. She's still part of the leash. October. Over the last month, the little female has ventured all over the place. She's been to the Eagle's Cliff, to the 3,000 meter high ridge and even to the Circus of Swiss Pines, from which she only returned three days later. This time, she won't be back. By midday, the rock and the carpet made of large tree needles have captured the full warmth and delight of an autumn that refuses to give way to winter. November. The vagrant fox is still around. He seems to like it in the suspended valley. Since his intrusion into the forest, he's been nursing the muzzle wound he sustained against the dominant male. The infected bite is taking too long to heal. The lack of snow encourages every herbivore to store as much energy as possible. All except the chamois, distracted by the rut. Following a masterful pursuit, a chamois has just chased away a rival to the brink of fox territory, a chilling wind that pierces through every living creature. However, it doesn't seem to affect the little female fox. She may look fat, but it's actually the seasonal growth of her own hair and undercoat. A comfortable protection against the cold up to minus 15 degrees. The ermine has turned white. The two relentless vole hunters come across and ignore each other. The little female has decided to leave. She couldn't find her place in the suspended valley. Was it because of the mood swings of the vagrant fox she inevitably kept seeing? Or the mating season that didn't pertain to her? Was it the lack of food that accentuated all rivalries? Or perhaps an irresistible desire to try her luck elsewhere? We'll never know. She leaves at the crack of dawn, goes across two passes, and disappears in the valley of the spruce trees, some 30 kilometers away. December the 15th. It's freezing cold on the southern slope at an altitude of 2,400 meters. This is no time for the vagrant fox to be choosy. There isn't a single carcass in the suspended valley, and all food hiding spots are empty. He must settle for what he can find. Over the granite, he uses his tail as a balancing pole, defying heights, climbing up frozen corridors. The majesty of the mountain has been in full display in the suspended valley for thousands of years. The rock ptarmigans never leave this higher ground. They survived the last ice age under the protection of the earth itself, the woodchucks have been hibernating. Occasionally, the biological clock telling them to come out for spring goes out of whack, and a woodchuck awakes in the middle of winter for a couple of hours. Because of the lack of carrion this winter, the foxes roam around more. The dominant male has also made the trip. The vagrant is determined to call this home and to keep his prey. He has the confidence of a dominant male. Although they're evenly matched, the fox from the leash now submits. The vagrant retrieves the woodchuck he'd caught earlier in the morning and hastily covered in snow. This woodchuck is a godsend that's unlikely to happen again this winter. In the last few years, climate change has resulted in more frequent mild spells in winter and floods in summer. The mountain wind has been blowing since yesterday and destabilises the snowy slopes. Foxes have 45 times more olfactory cells than humans. This hyper-developed sense of smell allows them to locate a dead animal buried under a metre of snow after an avalanche. In the absence of carcasses, the fox uses his second best natural feature to hunt small rodents, an extraordinary sense of hearing. Thanks to his ears, capable of independently pivoting by 150 degrees, and muscles that can reposition the auditory canal, he can pinpoint the origin of a sound with extreme accuracy. If it weren't for this layer of snow, he would also pick up the fidgeting of the voles and mice up to 100 metres away. He can also detect the low frequencies of their movements. But the fox has more than one trick up his sleeve to catch the field mice and voles that hide under the snow in winter. Scientists have recently observed that while performing the famous mousing leap, a fox catches four times more prey when he faces northeast. As extraordinary as it may seem, thanks to a protein located in the retina, foxes are believed to use the geomagnetic field to gauge their exact jumping distance. In the heart of winter, slightly later than in the plains, whether there's wind or snow, mating season begins. Two other males in heat avoid a fight and return to the forest. Only the vagrant remains. In heat for three days, the female humours the dominant male's attention and foreplay. Since the female mates with several partners, the dominant male won't necessarily be the father of the next litter. DNA analyses have confirmed that cubs from the same litter can have different fathers. Breeding season isn't over. The ousted foxes will be back. The cubs will be born in about That's when the leash feeds exclusively on carrion. Natural selection for some, This evening, a suspicious scent entices the vagrant fox to this ridge, still bathed in sunlight. In winter, the suspended valley resembles the Arctic. A raking light colours the rare few that venture this far. The wolves. Last summer's pack just killed an ibex. They leave. Group hunting comes with a few perks. Tonight, and in the days to come, the leftovers of the wolves will appease the hunger of the vagrant fox. Startled by the master of the sky, the fox has to look menacing by raising his fur and tail. Several foxes have died in the claws of eagles. That message is genetically inscribed. Winter is coming to an end. This story has been repeating itself for thousands of years, yet it's never the same. Thanks to their hyper-developed senses, the foxes of the leash will be able to take on another cycle of seasons. Their remarkable abilities have allowed their species to prosper in the most diverse habitats, including urban settings, so much so that they've become the most widespread carnivores in the world. The weight of the ridges, the frozen lake, and the gorge of a dozen lairs will become the future living area of the vagrant fox. In the terrain of the large tree forest, over a year has gone by since the birth of the five cubs. The dominant female has found a new den, a mere 200 meters away from the other one. Of the five cubs from the previous year, only the little female sister and a young male remain. Her brother left the terrain during mating season. A new litter is born. In 10 months, each cub will be old enough to reproduce. Their vital goal will be to transmit a part of themselves to the next generation, and to pass down the force allowing the leash of foxes to overcome the obstacles of high altitude living. Such is life in the mountains.