Baby Red Fox Finds New Family: patient 25-188

Some patients arrive at West Shore Wildlife Center under the most difficult circumstances, their fate hanging in the balance. Patient 25-188, a tiny baby Red Fox, was one of them. Found alone, she was brought to us with several large puncture wounds around her neck—a clear sign of an attack by a predator, likely a raptor like a hawk, eagle, or owl.

Upon her initial examination, the full extent of her injuries became clear. While the wounds were alarming, our team was most concerned about the risk of infection. She was immediately given antibiotics to fight off any potential bacteria and pain medication to keep her comfortable during her recovery. We also discovered she was dehydrated, so we focused on carefully rehydrating her to stabilize her condition.

Over the next few weeks, our little fox patient proved to be incredibly resilient. She responded well to her treatment, and the wounds began to heal beautifully. Her daily pain medication and antibiotics were a crucial part of her routine, and as she grew stronger, we started to see her playful, curious personality emerge. She was a feisty little survivor, and after a little less than a month in our care, she was healthy, strong, and ready for the next big step: release.

For a wild animal, a successful release means more than just being physically healthy—it means being able to thrive in the wild. For a young, social animal like a fox, this means being with a family. The timing for this little kit was perfect. A relative of one of our staff members had discovered a local fox family with juveniles that were a very similar size to Patient 25-188. This was the perfect opportunity for her to be integrated into a new family and learn the essential survival skills she would need.

With the hope of a new family, we brought her to the location of the known den. We placed her crate near the entrance and waited patiently. After some time, the fox family emerged, cautiously approaching the crate to inspect the newcomer. We held our breath, watching and waiting. Eventually, the family retreated back into the den. We took this as our cue to open the crate and give her the freedom to explore.

Patient 25-188, sensing the presence of her own kind, moved toward the den and let herself right in. There were no fighting noises or distress sounds—just a quiet, hopeful silence that told us everything we needed to know. She had been accepted into the family. The den was monitored for a while longer, and we soon had follow-up sightings of our former patient, looking healthy and fully grown. Her story is a beautiful reminder of the second chances that compassionate care can create.