A skulk of foxes.

Hello my fox brothers and sisters,

As a child, I loved Roald Dahl’s Fantastic Mr. Fox, and if I had a copy of it still (I borrowed it often from the school library), I’m sure I’d enjoy leafing through its pages today.

"Well, my darling," said Mr. Fox. "What shall it be tonight?"

"I think we’ll have duck tonight," said Mrs Fox.

"Bring us two fat ducks, if you please. One for you and me, and one for the children."

"Ducks it shall be!" said Mr Fox.

I am terribly fond of foxes, though most of the foxes I know come from the pages of books or fairy tales. From Yuri Norstein’s beautiful Fox and Rabbit (1975), a retelling of an ancient Russian folk tale, to Beatrix Potter’s The Tale of Mr. Tod (“He was of a wandering habit and he had foxey whiskers; they never knew where he would be next.”), foxes are clever, cunning and handsome, and their eyes glisten.

ЛИСА И ЗАЯЦ (Part I)




ЛИСА И ЗАЯЦ (Part II)




(An English translation of sorts can be found here.)

So foxes it is, a skulk of foxes to set this blog on its merry path. For those curious, a group of foxes can also be referred to as a lead or a leash of foxes, and there ends our English lesson. Roll on with the visuals, starting with Louise's white, silver, red and blue foxes which have been fashioned into fur garments.


{Wishing we were still a skulk, I. Watercolour and pencil drawing, Louise Jennison.}



{Wishing we were still a skulk, II. Watercolour and pencil drawing, Louise Jennison.}



{The door was open but we decided to stay (detail). Digital collage, Gracia Haby.}



{I don't think we're all of us going to fit in there. Digital collage, Gracia Haby.}



{A happy band of skulkers. Pencil drawing, Elaine Haby.}


{Looking for a fat hen. Pencil drawing, Elaine Haby.}

From back stage.

{I found myself suddenly alone. Postcard collage, Gracia Haby. (Click to enlarge)}

Thank you for your interest in this new side project.

Our fox friends waiting in the wings, Elaine, Louise and I are looking forward to sometime next week sharing the first instalment with you.

Until then, you’d best polish your whiskers,
G

Something new begins to take shape...

{Somewhere in Andalusia, three red foxes were holding court. Collage, Gracia Haby. (Click to enlarge)}

A quiver of arrows, a parcel of penguins, a trace of rabbits, a peal of bells, a vagary of impediments, a constellation of satellites, and a leash of greyhounds, I find there are more collective nouns than not to make the corners of the mouth curve upward.

A watch of nightingales, a sleuth of bears, and a charm of finches, they call up such imagery. A raft of sea otters, can you seem them? Squint a little if it helps. There on the horizon, see them now? They’re wearing neck scarves constructed from thin slithers of kelp. And they’re making their way across the water with all the ease and grace of Venetian gondola driver.

A mischief of mice, a cache of jewels, they sound so apt, so visual, and so enchanting.

Here in this spot that runs alongside High Up in the Trees, I shall post responses, be they visual or otherwise, to particular collective nouns, and each time I do so I shall be in good company. Along for the journey I have invited Elaine and Louise. From time to time I hope to be able to invite a guest or two to join us, responding to their collective noun in any way they choose.

Do stick around; I think we’re going to have fun.

G

collective noun n in grammar, a noun that denotes a number of individuals considered as one group.