This used to be a crowded tourist destination for observing wild foxes, sparked by Kevin Ebi’s dramatic, viral 2018 photographs. Since then, there’s been a lot of drama around the foxes here. Red foxes, despite being the most widespread nonhuman land mammal in the world, are not native to the San Juan Islands or western Washington state. Neither are the European rabbits they were brought here to control.
A quick history of how we got here
In the late 1800’s, European rabbits were brought to San Juan Island to farm for meat. Specific details vary, but the consistent story is that the market failed and thousands of rabbits were set free. And then they bred and spread like, well…rabbits. By 1930, they were causing severe ecological damage, even undermining Naval buildings on the island with their extensive warrens! Around this time, red foxes were deliberately introduced to help control the rabbit population. The foxes came from fur farms and game farms, and as a result, the San Juan Island red foxes are orange, silver, black and multicolored. In the wild red fox populations worldwide, black is a rare color mutation. On the island, black foxes are common. (Spoiler Alert: It didn’t work. By 1970, the National Park Service estimated there were one million rabbits on the island!).
For a long time, residents and visitors fed the foxes. They’re cute, curious and personable. It’s an understandable temptation. But no good comes from feeding wildlife. The tame, exotically colored foxes drew tourists and photographers from all over the world. The locals were not keen on the crowds. People would walk into the fields, stake out the fox dens and generally disrupt fox life. The islanders liked their quiet, secret paradise, and the “foxarazzzi” became a lightning rod for the disdain for growing tourism. In 2019, they formed the “fox brigade” to try to educate and police visitors.
More drama ensued. People behaved badly. In 2022, the National Park Service closed the prairie to all foot traffic to protect the foxes. (American Camp, the most popular place to see the foxes, is part of the San Juan Island National Historical Park, formed partly to commemorate another animal drama. This one involving a pig).
Back to my 2026 visit
Given this context, I expected to see foxes on the roadsides, in town and in yards. Like deer. Not so. Therefore, I didn’t do any pre-trip research about where they are often seen. I had to set out deliberately at the right time (dusk) and the right place (American Camp), like any wildlife pursuit.
Choosing a spot next to a well-worn animal trail, I waited quietly, using my car as a blind. There is only one other vehicle in sight. A red fox appears. He’s trotting through the tall grasses that obscure his form.
Bouncing along, pausing to tilt his head and listen. He’s moving closer to me, towards shorter vegetation, when a silver fox races into sight from behind a hill. His ears are pinned back, coat blown back by the motion. The red fox is on his heels. They circle a small bush, the only obstacle in the sea of grass.
It’s a classic tactic to shake off a pursuer. I can’t tell if this is serious aggression, a casual shooing or real play.
They both could be moving faster, but they are the cats of the dog world, and cats are known for their low-speed chases.
The silver fox gains some distance and disappears over a knoll as quickly as he came. The red fox returns to his hunting and vanishes over the hill with the last light of day.
A Second Evening of Foxes
Two days later, as the day turns to dusk, I’m back along the same road. A fox emerges from the grassland, briefly hunts unsuccessfully and then quickly crosses the road and disappears into the coastal scrubland.
I wait. And watch. What’s the best way to find foxes in this vast, grassy meadow? Look for the rabbits. It turns out the rabbits serve as sentinels for the foxes.
They are on alert, up on their haunches, outside one of dozens of their underground warren entrances. A watched fox cannot sneak up on you. The foxes occasionally prey on the rabbits, but prefer easier meals, like rodents, insects and berries, which comprise the bulk of their diet. This fox stayed far off in the prairie.
Close Encounter
I walked up the road in a cold wind to scan the hill where I saw the foxes two days ago. A shaggy red fox is trotting through the grasses.
He turns, gracefully hops the fence and crosses the road in front of me.
I am way too close, but if I move now I’ll certainly startle him and alter his behavior. He’s paying no attention to me. I freeze as he passes to minimize my disturbance. Does this “I can’t move, or I’ll disrupt the fox” serve me? Absolutely. Can it also be true? Absolutely.
After mousing around the opposite side of the road, the fox deftly hopped the split-rail fence once again, nosed along the mowed road shoulder and then crossed back.
I spent four days exploring San Juan Island from Roche Harbor to Lime Kiln to Cady Mountain to False Bay, Friday Harbor and American Camp. I only saw foxes in the area of American Camp and only within the 30 minutes before sunset.
A caveat – it is late April, a time when vixen foxes are in their dens nursing newborn kits. Only the males are out and about. Come May and June, the young kits will be out exploring their new world, playing and generally being adorable. Their parents will be constantly hunting to bring them food. Reports of foxes along the roadways and in yards will be common.
It wasn’t what I’d expected. It never really is, and that’s part of the appeal of adventure. I was glad to see the foxes (and rabbits!) living their lives without the paparazzi. Nature is resilient. 
If you’re interested in purchasing or licensing any images you see here, please email me at SNewenham at exploringnaturephotos.com, and I’ll make it happen.
Subscribe here to receive an email whenever a new blog posts.
Discover more from Exploring Nature by Sheila Newenham
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.