Narrator: In ancient Thebes, a monstrous vixen terrorized the land. It was a creature of paradox, sent by the gods and destined never to be caught. To counter this impossible threat, a hero unleashed Laelaps, a legendary dog destined to catch whatever it pursued. An uncatchable fox chased by an uncatchable dog—a contradiction that threatened to tear the fabric of reality apart. To resolve it, Zeus turned them both to stone, forever frozen in their eternal, impossible chase. This myth captures the essence of an animal that has always existed at the edge of our understanding, a creature that is both predator and prey, real and symbolic, wild and yet inextricably tied to human civilization. In his book Fox, author Martin Wallen embarks on a journey to unravel this enigma, tracing the creature's path through science, myth, language, and culture to reveal what our long, complicated relationship with the fox truly says about us.

Narrator: The quest to scientifically define the fox reveals less about the animal itself and more about the biases of human observation. From the very beginning of Western thought, the fox has defied neat categorization, forcing thinkers to create a special, often negative, space for it. Aristotle, in his attempt to systematically classify all life, positioned the fox as an earthly, wicked creature, the antithesis of the divine human. He saw its cunning and tendency to hide in the earth not as survival traits, but as moral failings.

This legacy of bias continued for centuries, seeping into the very language of science. The Latin and Greek terms used in modern taxonomy often carry these ancient, negative connotations. When European naturalists encountered new fox species in other parts of the world, they measured them against the European red fox as the "true" standard. South American foxes, for example, were often given names that suggested they were "false" or "incomplete" because they didn't behave as expected.

A stark example of this cultural bias comes from Charles Darwin's voyage on the HMS Beagle. In South America, he encountered a chilla, a local fox species, that was so "intently absorbed" in watching the crew that it showed no fear. A European fox would have fled instantly. Darwin, acting as a scientist of his time, simply walked up to the unwary animal and killed it with his geological hammer, collecting it as a specimen. The chilla's lack of fear was interpreted not as a sign of a different environment, but as a failing, a kind of "falseness" that made it culpable and less of a fox than its European cousins. The book argues that despite our scientific advancements, the fox remains elusive, its ambiguity and adaptability challenging every box we try to put it in.

Narrator: While Western tradition often casts the fox as a cunning devil, global folklore reveals a far more complex and powerful figure. The fox of myth is a shapeshifter, a creature that walks between worlds and embodies forces beyond human comprehension. In Europe, this is most famously seen in the tales of Reynard the Fox, a charismatic and amoral rogue who uses his wits to subvert the authority of the dim-witted lion king and his court. While Christian allegory simplified the fox into a symbol for the Devil, Reynard represents a more complicated, pre-Christian cunning that audiences have cheered for centuries.

However, in Asia, the fox transforms into something else entirely. In Japan, the kitsune, or spirit-fox, is a central figure in the Shinto religion. These foxes can have multiple tails, breathe fire, and live for a thousand years. They are powerful shapeshifters, often taking the form of beautiful women to interact with humans. A kitsune might be a benevolent spirit, a trickster, or a dangerous seductress. In the famous tale of Tamamo-no-Mae, a nine-tailed fox becomes the emperor's favorite consort, secretly draining his life force and bringing ruin to the kingdom. These stories show the fox as a creature existing between the human and spirit worlds, embodying desire, transformation, and a power that is both creative and destructive. This contrasts sharply with South American myths, where among the Andean Quechua, the fox is a vital transitional figure, guiding young men from childhood into adulthood and acting as a communicator with the earth itself.

Narrator: The fox's powerful symbolic identity has burrowed deep into human language, shaping idioms, names, and even social conventions. Its reputation for cunning has made it a go-to epithet for military strategists. During the American Revolution, Francis Marion became "The Swamp Fox" for his ability to elude the British in the Carolina marshes. His frustrated pursuer, Colonel Tarleton, famously gave up the chase, declaring, "as for this damned old fox, the Devil himself could not catch him." Similarly, German Field Marshal Erwin Rommel was dubbed the "Desert Fox" by the Allies in World War II, a name that conveyed both respect for his tactical genius and fear of his elusiveness.

Perhaps the most fascinating linguistic footprint comes from Japan, where the fear of the shapeshifting kitsune created a unique social solution. Because a spirit-fox could perfectly mimic a human voice but was believed to be unable to say certain words, a specific telephone greeting emerged: "moshimoshi." The phrase has no direct meaning; its sole purpose is to act as a verbal password. By saying "moshimoshi," a speaker proves they are not a fox in disguise, offering assurance that the person on the other end of the line is truly human. This single custom reveals how profoundly the myth of the fox has shaped everyday life and communication in a culture.

Narrator: The fox's cultural image as a thief and vermin has long been intertwined with its commercial value, leading to its exploitation for both sport and fashion. In England, the tradition of fox-hunting created a bizarre and grim market. When local fox populations couldn't meet the demand of the hunts, a trade in "bagged foxes" emerged. These animals were captured on the European continent, shipped to London in cramped cages, and sold at markets for wealthy squires to release before a hunt. These imported foxes, unfamiliar with the terrain, were often killed quickly and derided as "short running dastardly traitors" for failing to provide a good chase. This practice reveals a system where the fox's value was tied directly to its death, transforming the animal into a disposable commodity for entertainment.

A parallel industry arose from the desire for its fur. The fur trade drove the development of fox farming, pioneered in the late 19th century by men like Charles Dalton in Canada. He discovered that by simulating natural conditions, foxes could be bred in captivity on an industrial scale. This innovation turned the fox pelt into a global commodity, leading to massive farms in North America, Russia, and Scandinavia. Whether for the thrill of the chase or the luxury of a fur coat, the commercial fox became an animal divorced from its wildness, its value determined entirely by human desire and its life subject to the brutal logic of the marketplace.

Narrator: In the 20th and 21st centuries, the fox found a new territory to haunt: the cinema. On screen, the fox rarely appears as just an animal. Instead, it becomes a powerful allegorical figure, used by filmmakers to explore the untamed, often repressed, parts of the human psyche, particularly sexuality. In the 1950 film Gone to Earth, a wild, nature-loving girl named Hazel has a pet fox, Foxy. She is caught between two men: a gentle minister and a predatory squire who is an avid fox-hunter. The squire's desire for Hazel is explicitly framed as a hunt, and she becomes the human embodiment of the fox he wishes to conquer. Her tragic death at the end, as she and Foxy fall into a mineshaft while fleeing the hunt, symbolizes the destruction of innocence and wildness by a possessive, civilizing force.

This theme of the fox as a symbol for forbidden desire and cultural conflict is also prominent in Asian cinema. The Korean television series Gumiho reimagines the nine-tailed fox legend in modern Seoul. Here, the foxes are a secret race struggling for survival, and their story becomes an allegory for the conflict between indigenous Korean tradition and encroaching Westernized modernity. The fox is no longer just a creature of the forest, but a symbol of cultural identity, its struggle for survival mirroring a society's struggle to hold onto its soul.

Narrator: Across science, myth, and art, Martin Wallen's Fox reveals that the fox is ultimately a boundary creature. It lives at the edge of our forests and cities, but more importantly, it lives at the edge of our definitions. It challenges our attempts to classify, control, and commodify the natural world. The book's most profound takeaway is that our long and fraught history with the fox is a mirror. In our attempts to hunt, tame, study, or demonize it, we are often just grappling with the "vulpitude" in ourselves—our own cunning, our own wildness, our own desires that defy easy categorization.

The fox narrative, from the uncatchable beast of Thebes to the cinematic symbol of repressed sexuality, suggests that we are deeply uncomfortable recognizing ourselves in this animal. And so, the final question the book leaves us with is not "What is a fox?" but rather, "What does our story of the fox say about us?"