1. I
t is very early in the morning and
Kenya’s Masai Mara National Reserve
has not yet relinquished its black and
star-embellished sky to the sun. I am
racing or, more accurately, moving
as fast as I can (an aged tortoise would
have no trouble keeping up) as I try
to retrace my path from the previous
day. Confusion sets in when the tracks
I am following lead into something
resembling a railway junction as the
markings of tourist vehicles cross in
every direction, betraying the site of
yesterday’s lion action. As I navigate
my way through the mess, lights that
appear to flicker across the plain are
revealed as the eyes of dainty impalas
and, through the dust, the face of a
blood-soaked hyaena appears as it
feasts on yet another wildebeest carcass.
These are just a few of the fascinating
and thrilling scenes that the Mara offers
every morning, but they’re not what I’m
tracking today.
All is quiet when I arrive at the bat-
eared fox den. The male is curled up
about two metres from one of the
entrances, seemingly asleep, but in fact
very alert. His ears flatten submissively
as I approach, but he is used to the
chugging of the Land Cruiser by now
and any signs of fear quickly subside
once the engine is silenced. I wait. Just
as the first splashes of orange stain
the sky, four cubs erupt from the den,
tumbling over each other in their rush
to greet the female, whose stealthy
arrival is shattered as her offspring
41W W W. A F R I C A G E O G R A P H I C . C O M
TEXT &
PHOTOGRAPHS
BY CHERYL-
SAMANTHA OWEN
HOLE
Amid the hustle and bustle of the East African wilde-
beest migration, zoologist Cheryl-Samantha Owen was
distracted by the antics of a family of bat-eared foxes.
Having overheard a passing 4x4-load of tourists refer to
them as ‘baby jackals’, she became determined to give
these diminutive members of the dog family a share of
the limelight.
CAPERS
FOX
Ut pratet vent nim zzrit at. Gue del eum ing exero exercing ex euguero duipisi eugiamc
onsectet, sed tat et amet, verciniam quamcon sequis autatio odiamco nsectem zzrit


2. join the dawn chorus with soft mews.
While she stands, energised from a
night of foraging, they scramble for a
good position from which to suckle. Bat-
eared foxes don’t regurgitate part of their
insect meals for cubs, rather mothers eat
an extra helping to provide enough milk
for their young.
These cubs are tiny balls of fur and
with their still-small ears they remind
me more of kittens than members of the
dog family to which they belong. Born
in a den, cubs open their eyes at nine
days old and emerge from the safety of
the lair at about two-and-a-half weeks.
Judging from the generous amount of
grey underfur and adult colouration,
these four are about four weeks old and
will suckle for another 11 weeks or so
before they are weaned. Their path to
maturity is relatively short and when
they are two or three months old – and
almost grown – they will join their
parents on foraging excursions. For the
moment, their adventures are small and
functional – the tunnels and chambers
of the den (probably the original
excavations of a warthog or springhare)
are kept clean and I often saw one cub
move away from the others for a quick
toilet break.
I
n East Africa bat-eared foxes have a
much lower profile than in southern
Africa, where they are often seen
wandering through farmlands or
playing with death on South African and
Namibian roads. In Kenya, they tend to
be confined to protected areas, yet they
are often overlooked by visitors intent
on finding larger predators or keen to
get back to their comfortable lodges.
I was not in the Mara on any official
research project, but when I came across
this family group, it become surprisingly
easy to rise at 04h30 every morning and
make my way to the den, camera in
hand, in the hope of producing some
images that would give these ‘baby
jackals’ (as one tourist called them) a
shot at the limelight.
So it was by design, not accident, that
I found myself lying on my stomach
underneath the Land Cruiser with oil
dripping down my back, wildebeest
scats stuck to my elbows and a line of
ants surrounding me in preparation
for an attack. But, being on the ground
afforded me a fox-eye view, a far better
vantage point than the relative comfort
of sipping coffee and eating biscuits in
the seat above. Getting down and dirty
in plain view earlier, however, hadn’t
worked – the cubs disappeared down an
escape tunnel and their parents fled into
the distance. I left the den in peace and
watched from further away as seconds
turned into minutes and minutes turned
into half an hour. Despite the knowledge
that the adult pair would not abandon
their cubs, I started to worry. By the time
they returned, I had decided to make my
human form as unobtrusive as possible
and, to the best of my ability, merge
with the car.
This morning, like all the other
mornings, the cubs stayed outside
after they had fed, huddling together
for added warmth, while their mother
waited for the sun and an opportunity to
bask. The youngsters all seemed to have
distinct characters and one in particular
showed an independent streak, lounging
about outside after all the others had
disappeared below for safety and stray-
ing the furthest from the den. It also
investigated me the most closely – a
little too closely sometimes, as it always
42 A F R I C A G E O G R A P H I C • A U G U S T 2 0 0 6
noticed when I took off my thick coat
(de rigueur for the early morning under-
the-car shift) or I altered my position and
and often alerted the adults.
The other cubs, however, weren’t
interested in me and continued their
nibble-grooming or playing. And did
they play – bobbing and prancing in
front of one another, nipping at
haunches and attacking tails. Vegetation
was another source of amusement and
one small plant outside the den was
constantly battered by little forefeet and
inquisitive noses. Playing sessions were
cut short only by the cries of raptors
above, the sounds of passing game, or
when the sun grew too fierce and the
family retreated below ground for its
main rest period.
A
lthough it is most active at night,
the bat-eared fox’s greatest threat
comes from diurnal birds of prey.
And, at an average weight of just
over three kilograms, it should be easy
43W W W. A F R I C A G E O G R A P H I C . C O M
FAST FACTS
BAT-EARED FOX Otocycon megalotis
An ancient canid that is genetically
and morphologically distinct from all
other foxes.
Length
47 to 58 centimetres.
Weight
Three to four-and-a-half kilograms.
Habitat
A permanent pair forms the basic social
unit. After a 60-day gestation, the female
gives birth to up to six cubs in a burrow
modified or dug by the two adults. The
cubs are born blind and helpless but reach
maturity within four months.
Adaptations
These foxes have between 46 and 50
teeth, the highest number known for any
non-marsupial land mammal. This unusual
dentition is used for slicing and dicing
termites and other hard-shelled insects with
pincers. A special muscle attachment at
the back of the jaw (the digastric muscle)
allows the fox to chew up to five times per
second. Outsized ears (up to 12 centimetres
long) enable the foxes to pick up sounds of
underground prey.
Diet
Termites, especially harvester termites,
beetles and other invertebrates form the
bulk of their diet (they are the only canids
that have largely abandoned mammalian
prey). Dense fur protects them from the
bites of the soldier termites.
Ut pratet vent nim zzrit at. Gue del eum ing exero exercing ex euguero duipisi
eugiamc onsectet, sed tat et amet, verciniam quamcon sequis autatio
Ut pratet vent nim zzrit at. Gue del eum ing exero exercing ex euguero duipisi
eugiamc onsectet, sed tat et amet, verciniam quamcon sequis autatio


3. pickings for the Mara’s sizeable raptor
population. However, one morning, I
was lucky enough to witness the sidestep
strategy that keeps these nimble foxes
alive (and would be the envy of every
rugby player). The cubs were lying in
the open when a vulture swooped down
to the den just above the top entrance.
They bolted down the nearest holes
before I could blink, while the mother
took off, zigzagging her way across the
plains, changing directions at full speed
with a flick of her tail. Bat-eared foxes
can pivot on their forefeet, a technique
developed precisely for flights such as
these when they are either quick-footed
or dead. The vulture was not prepared
for this burst of activity and I am sure
that these manoeuvres could outwit the
sharpest of eagles.
Late one afternoon, the family had
just emerged from the den and were
greeting one another, touching noses
and sniffing, when the ground started
to vibrate with the impact of hundreds
of hooves on the move. The wildebeest
migration was still underway and the
grasslands were teaming with these
odd-looking beasts. I moved my legs
in line with the car, suddenly feeling
a bit exposed as I was sure that the
next shape to gallop by would be more
44 A F R I C A G E O G R A P H I C • A U G U S T 2 0 0 6
predator-like. Sure enough, in the dust
cloud that remained, the old hyaena
appeared again. The cubs were long
gone but surprisingly, the adults did very
little, bar flattening themselves against
the ground and lying completely still.
As it turned out, there were two hyaena
dens within an extra long stone’s throw
from the foxes and passing hyaenas were
a common occurrence. Neither party
appeared to be in the least bit interested
in the other.
As the day retreated, I too withdrew
and the female embarked on her nightly
foraging expedition. Bat-eared foxes
search for food separately and this female
would probably hunt until the early
hours of the morning, targeting anything
from mice to scorpions, although safari
ants and termites form the bulk of the
foxes’ diet. Proportionally, the bat-eared
fox has the second largest ears of all
the foxes (only the fennec’s are larger)
and it is during these expeditions that
these highly adapted antennae come
into their own. During the day, I had
watched as the adults foraged around the
den, turning their heads and fixing these
finely tuned satellite dishes to the exact
spot where beetle larvae lay buried, then
using their long claws to dig them out, or
accurately pinpointing the hiding place
of a grasshopper and catching it with a
bound reminiscent of their insect prey.
It’s completely dark now and, letting
the car steer itself towards my own
canvas burrow, I feel the wind on my
face through open windows (Actually,
they don’t wind up) and try to commit
the calls of the bush to memory,
holding onto the timeless feeling that
hangs in the air. Spending a day at
grazed grass level may mean coming
up smelling less than rosy with blotchy
red bite marks and big clumps of greasy
hair, but watching bat-eared foxes go
about their business in the midst of the
migration action is as entertaining as
any predator–prey drama, and I defy
anyone to resist their charms.
45W W W. A F R I C A G E O G R A P H I C . C O M
the adults foraged around the den, turning their
heads and fixing these finely tuned satellite dishes
to the exact spot where beetle larvae lay buried
Ut pratet vent nim zzrit at. Gue del eum ing exero exercing ex euguero duipisi
eugiamc onsectet, sed tat et amet, verciniam quamcon sequis autatio
Ut pratet vent nim zzrit at. Gue del eum ing exero exercing ex euguero duipisi
eugiamc onsectet, sed tat et amet, verciniam quamcon sequis autatio
Ut pratet vent nim zzrit at. Gue del eum ing exero exercing ex euguero duipisi
eugiamc onsectet, sed tat et amet, verciniam quamcon sequis autatio

Zoologist Cheryl-Samantha Owen has
completed her Masters degree and has
turned her attention to photojournalism.