The Red Ghosts of Kashmir: Why the Valley Can’t Stop Talking About Its Foxes

The Red Ghosts of Kashmir: Why the Valley Can’t Stop Talking About Its Foxes

If you’ve ever driven on the Srinagar-Leh highway at dusk, you’ve probably seen one: a flash of rust-red fur slipping between the poplars, amber eyes catching your headlights for a split second before vanishing into the orchards.
Kashmiris don’t just call them “foxes.”
They call them Lal Lohar, the Red Phantom.
And almost every village from Gurez to Gulmarg has a story about them that grandparents still swear is true.
The Fox Who Stole the Moon
In Tangmarg, old men will tell you about the night in 1947 when a fox walked into a marriage party, sat on its haunches beside the bride, and stared at the full moon reflected in a copper plate of sheer chai. When someone tried to shoo it away, the fox spoke (yes, spoke) in a woman’s voice:
“Give me one fistful of wazwaan (red cock meat only) and I will return your moon tomorrow.”
They laughed, of course. Until the next morning the moon didn’t rise. Three days of darkness followed. On the fourth night, the bride’s father left a plate of rogani meat outside the walnut tree. By dawn the moon was back, slightly tilted, as if someone had hung it crookedly in a hurry.
To this day, Tangmarg elders leave a small piece of red meat under walnut trees on full-moon nights “just in case.”
The Fox Saint of Dachigam
Dachigam National Park isn’t just the last home of the Hangul stag. It’s also where Kashmir’s most famous fox saint is said to live.
Locals call him Peer Babur (Saint Red-Fur). Forest guards claim that when poachers enter the upper reaches, a large dog-fox with a white tip on its tail appears on the trail and leads them in endless circles until they’re too exhausted to lift their guns. One guard from Harwan village swears he once saw Peer Babur sitting on a rock, wearing a tiny green turban made of pine needles.
Wildlife biologists roll their eyes and say it’s just the Indian Red Fox (Vulpes vulpes montana), perfectly adapted to 3,500 metres with its thick winter coat.
But try telling that to the Gujjar shepherds who leave milk in clay bowls at the entrance of Dachigam every spring “for the Peer and his family.”
The Foxes That Saved a Village
During the harsh winter of 1993, when Shopian received over ten feet of snow and roads were cut off for weeks, people in a hamlet called Zawoora ran out of rice. An old woman named Haleema claims she woke up at midnight to see a line of foxes dragging something through the snow. She followed their tracks at first light and found dozens of frozen apples (misshapen, worm-eaten ones that the army of foxes had collected from under the snow and piled near her doorstep).
Enough to feed the village for four days until the first helicopter drop.
Even today, no one in Zawoora sets traps for foxes. “Unn khe Apple Khan,” they say with a grin. “The Apple Lords.”
The Real Foxes Behind the Stories
While the folklore is irresistible, the actual red foxes of Kashmir are having a moment for very modern reasons.
They’re thriving.
Thanks to decades of conflict reducing human movement in certain areas (especially along the LoC), red fox populations have exploded from Kishtwar to Keran. Camera traps now regularly capture them at altitudes where only snow leopards were seen before.
They’ve become Instagram stars.
A fox casually walking through the frozen streets of Gulmarg in 2022 went viral with the caption “Kashmiri Uber driver waiting for tourists.” Another clip of a fox stealing a tourist’s Maggi in Sonamarg has 28 million views and counting.
They’re the ultimate survivors.
These are not your delicate European foxes. The Kashmir red fox has thicker fur, shorter ears (to prevent heat loss), and a diet that swings from voles and marmots to leftover biryani snatched from army camps. They’ve learned to open dustbins in Pahalgam, follow ibex herds like wolves, and (according to one viral video) even ride on the backs of Hangul stags to cross rivers.
The One Story No One Tells in Daylight
There’s a darker tale, whispered only after midnight.
They say if a fox crosses your path three times in one night and on the third crossing it stops and looks back at you, someone in your family will leave the valley forever.
Refugee families in Jammu say it happened to them in 1990. The fox came on the night they decided to flee.
So the next time you’re in Kashmir…
…watch for that flash of red in the chinar leaves.
It might just be a fox looking for dinner.
Or it might be Peer Babur checking if you left any wazwaan under the walnut tree.
Either way, roll down your window, smile, and say “Adaab, Lal Lohar.”
Because in Kashmir, some guests have been here longer than any of us.
And they still haven’t returned the moon properly.
Share this if you’ve ever met a Kashmiri fox (or if one stole your heart… or your Maggi). 🦊🍁
#Kashmir #FoxesOfKashmir #LalLohar #KashmiriFolklore #Dachigam #KashmirDiaries

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