Hunger, but also changing farm practices, tougher measures adopted by exasperated farmers protecting their chickens, lambs, ducks and geese, as well as the loss of habitat such as hedgerows - all part of the sub urbanisation of Ireland's countryside - has driven the fox, Vulpes vulpes, the most adaptable, opportunistic and possibly resourceful of our native wild mammals, to city living.

Close up, the city fox does not look very healthy. His coat seems dull, perhaps he has mange? But then he could be a lot older than his country cousin who died in his prime, struck down by yet another motorist in a hurry. A random diet of rubbish and scraps of takeaway food is not the same as nature's bounty - fresh, small mammal and fowl flesh and berries.

Still, on a good day, the bin might well contain the remains of last night's roast chicken. There could even be some vegetables and bread.

The residents in a suburb enjoy recounting the breakfast they saw a fox trotting across their lawn, particularly as they had never had the privilege of a similar encounter in the countryside where the fox is a nocturnal hunter, and if seen, is invariably lying dead on the road.

The city fox seems less furtive, more of a complacent tourist. Naturalist David Cabot, writing in Ireland - A Natural History (London, 1999) recalls the famous pair that established "an earth" under a timber cabin at RTÉ, in Donnybrook. Early morning runners in nearby Herbert Park have had sightings. Five years ago, a Bavarian tourist photographed a large dog fox in Stephens Green.

Rural or recent townie foxes with their sharp, intelligent faces and bushy white tipped tails, are lovely to look at, elegant, but surrounded by ambivalence. The anti-hunting lobby says "protect them", don't kill them in the name of a traditional sport, but do kill them in the name of commercial enterprise. Anyone who has suffered livestock losses through the fox demands extermination. An adult fox has little difficulty in despatching a couple of lambs in a night, and may even take on a ewe. A brief visit to a hen house will result in carnage.

All of this leads to the prevailing view of fox as villain, the scourge of hares and rabbits. The fox also dines on rats and wood mice, but this doesn't matter, not even the most profoundly political correct have so far championed the rights of the rat. But interestingly, the maligned fox, invariably presented in folklore and children's tales as a sly baddie, has become a focus of the most blatantly hypocritical political correctness.

The fox, reviled in every other aspect of its life, has been emotively presented as the helpless victim of hunting with hounds. Most observers in Ireland, whether pro- or anti-hunting would have to admit, that far more Irish foxes have died on Irish roads courtesy of Irish motorists who no doubt disapprove of hunting, than have ever died on the hunting field where their intelligence usually saves them. How are so many killed on the roads? Why do drivers insist on driving over dead carcasses rendering them into pulp?

As for the fox as killer, when he moves to the city, he may become more of a browser than hunter, but that does not mean he won't kill a well-fed domestic cat that crosses his path. That same tubby puss that enjoyed killing greenfinches for fun, not food, could ironically meet his end in his own garden. It is useful to remember that foxes that move to the city may become urbanised but remain wild animals given to killing without a licence. Equally, domestic dogs are also capable of joining a marauding pack for a killing spree. The fact that it is natural instinct not premeditated vandalism doesn't make the loss easier for the farmer.

Man has made life difficult for the fox just as we have made it difficult for any wild animal. We expect them to suspend instinct to obey our rules and respect our property. For all who consider him vermin, the fox also has his admirers. Some of his friends, however, aren't helping him. Well-meaning people have attempted to relocate city foxes by bringing them "home" to the countryside. The city fox, accustomed to scavenging from bins and litter-strewn streets, has no experience of country living, can't compete in the food stakes with his rural brethren, and starves.

Zoology students have studied the urban fox. Yet rural or urban there is no specific conservation policy. There are no population figures. Bounties used to be paid on foxes. But he has survived, a persecuted, non romanticised and tenacious part of our natural heritage. Should you see him investigating your garden, enjoy the moment.