Welcome to our official fundraising page dedicated to the neurologically impaired, orphaned Red fox kits we rescue and care for. Before diving into the patients, the vision and mission behind this campaign, and the story of a little fox named "Sunshine" from 2025 who truly kickstarted all of this, please keep in mind:

Even if it looks like our campaign goal has been met when you arrive here, know that these “goals” are simply a baseline; the minimum needed to move forward on a current need. We will continue to rely heavily on ongoing, year-round support to pursue additional imaging, diagnostics, and - if an appropriate, ethical case presents itself - potential surgical intervention (and we need to be able to move fast if/when that opportunity arises). There is also an entire side of this mission focused on research and data collection that we need to work towards funding when time allows us to shift focus away from the immediate, time-sensitive needs of current hydrocephalic patients.

So, if this topic has you feeling led to help, please continue contributing to our Red Fox Neurology Fund, regardless of whether a current campaign goal is active. We cannot responsibly pull from our day-to-day operating funds that are allocated to caring for our permanent residents and other rehab patients - so we can only push this work and research forward as far as your support allows, and there is so much more to uncover!

4/10/26 UPDATE: Our first goal of 2026 - to hit $7,000 - has been reached! 🎉 Sharpie’s MRI - our first advanced imaging of the year - has been fully funded. This resulted in now having our second "official" hydrocephalus diagnosis via MRI in the books. But our work (and costs) don’t stop here. Even if we haven’t updated the goal amount on this page yet, this was just our baseline. We still need continued support to pursue additional imaging, diagnostics, and - if the right case presents itself - potential surgical intervention. Please keep contributing to the Red Fox Neurology Fund year-round! We can only push this work forward as far as your support allows, and there is so much more to uncover.

Next goal: Reach $12,000 to ensure we have neurology-specific funds ready to go. Most likely to be used for advanced imaging on Apple, unless a more time-sensitive case or opportunity arises.

Intake 2026-05 (Sharpie) & Intake 2026-07 (Apple)

Introducing the two babies at the center of this current fundraiser push, Sharpie, and his "adopted sister", Apple.

Both Sharpie and Apple were found completely alone. There were no parents - both finders even waited before containing each kit in hopes a parent would return - no littermates, no den in sight, and in both cases, there were immediate red flags. At this age, a healthy fox kit is not easy to just scoop up. But, both of these babies were unusually easy to pick up, showing an abnormal lack of fear compared to what you'd expect to see at this age around humans and loud surroundings. Sharpie was found sitting in the middle of a road about an hour and a half west of me, and Apple was found alone and vocalizing in a yard two hours southeast of me. Both appeared to not be alarmed by (have difficulty seeing) what’s directly in front of them.

Before I even saw a photo of Sharpie, just hearing the finder describe the situation over the phone, I had a sinking gut feeling, “Here we go. This is probably my hydro baby for the year", and unfortunately, I was right.

Though they were found over 160 miles apart, based on each of their intake exams, I can tell that Sharpie and Apple are within a couple days of age (if not born on the exact same day). So I’ve given them the same birthday, since they’re adopted siblings now anyway: March 9, 2026.

If they live to see their first birthday, it will mean we’ve accomplished something I always believed must be possible, but that I felt like would always stay just out of reach.

This first fundraising goal is just the beginning for these two - hopefully! The initial goal of $7,000 will cover travel to have both kits evaluated by the veterinary neurosurgeon we are working with, one MRI for Sharpie (which is an enormous feat in itself), and bloodwork and labs for Apple. Due to scheduling limitations, Apple is not able to be added for advanced imaging during this same visit, but if we can reach this first goal quickly, one of my next goals is to get her on the books for an MRI as soon as possible as well.

And the ultra-realistic question some of you may be thinking, "What if they still end up passing?" The truth is, that is a very real possibility, even as I race the clock to try to change that outcome. But even so, because of how little published data exists on cases like these, their stories will not be forgotten. They will become part of the databank I’m working to build - helping us better understand this condition and, ultimately, helping more babies like them in the future.

There is real strength in numbers, and you proved that last year when you came together to fund not one, but two MRIs in record time, for Sunshine and Peanut. These cases are incredibly time-sensitive, so more than ever, I need you to "pause the scroll" and consider helping - even if it’s just equivalent to the cost of your favorite espresso drink!

A note from the founder:

The Catalyst Behind Our Push to Keep Digging Deeper:

Sunshine

Red fox | AFDWR Patient # 2025-05 | Male | ~4 weeks old

In early spring of 2025, many of you followed the story of my fifth wildlife rehab intake of the year, a tiny orphaned Red fox kit given the name “Sunshine”.

He came to me with an abnormal mentation (neurological symptoms that'd cause an experienced fox rehabber's eyebrow to raise) and the telltale enlarged, dome-shaped head - after being found alone, shivering, soaking wet, and wandering while vocalizing in a rainstorm - and I knew immediately that he was what I refer to as “my annual presumed hydrocephalus case”.

And like so many before him, I assumed that if I asked, the answer I had always been given would remain the same; we simply don’t know enough about hydrocephalus or its treatment in this species to offer anything better than a poor prognosis. I'd also usually receive a reminder that we were only ever assuming obstructive hydrocephalus in these cases - even if an ultrasound could spot some fluid - because without advanced imaging like MRI, a true diagnosis couldn’t be confirmed. And further, without that confirmation, there was no real path forward for proper treatment.

Any time I asked, “Well, can we do anything to try and learn more?” or “Okay, so how do we go about getting an MRI for one then?” I was answered with a polite rejection. Because the prognosis is often poor and the chances of these animals ever becoming candidates for release are very slim, many feel the time and resources simply aren’t worth it/justifiable. Time and time again, I was told that if we wanted to be proactive, euthanasia was the only realistic option.

And I’ll admit that there were times where I followed that guidance and chose euthanasia shortly after intake, carrying that heavy, looming sense of an inevitable dead end, knowing that more time would only deepen my attachment and the grief I’d feel when they passed. I can vividly recall my sighs of mental exhaustion when a sympathetic veterinarian told me that they agreed with my assumed diagnosis after an evaluation, and though many of the wonderful veterinarians I've worked with never pressure me, most would suggest that euthanizing sooner rather than later was the most ethical decision, given the outcome we were almost certain to face in a couple weeks. If I chose to send their bodies in for post-mortem necropsies, I reassured myself that at least we were contributing to the greater good by adding to the number of confirmed hydrocephalus cases - diagnoses that were only ever officially made after death.

But, there were many other times where I chose differently, times where I allowed them to live for as long as they were clearly comfortable, showing them the care and affection a young mammal psychologically needs, and doing everything I could to support them, which was always only a maximum of a few weeks post-intake. I moved away from the "euthanize upon intake" mindset over time, largely because I gained enough confidence in my own expertise to respectfully decline that suggestion when appropriate. I became an expert at spotting even the most subtle red flags, which is important, because wild animals are innately good at masking symptoms [I became a NYS DEC-licensed volunteer Wildlife Rehabilitator when I was 17 years old, and was probably around 20 when I started intaking these "presumed hydrocephalic" cases regularly. For reference, upon writing this in April 2026, I am 31 years old.]

Eventually though, it always led to the same place… euthanasia (if a quick, natural death didn't take them sooner).

But, I’ve never been able to shake the same recurring thought,

"Can’t we at least try? What if we can save even one, every once in a while?"

For a long time, trying simply wasn’t an option available to me. The cost of even obtaining an official diagnosis through MRI alone exceeded what my rescue efforts brought in annually, and that doesn’t even begin to touch the cost of medications, follow-up care, or the possibility of surgery, if it were ever deemed ethical and appropriate.

...Until trying did became an option.

After years of putting in the work to build a community of people who genuinely care, I finally reached a point where I felt confident we could fundraise enough to start asking a different version of my question,

"What if we try to learn more while they're alive, instead of just accepting that answer?"

Because of the support behind Sunshine - support from thousands of people around the world who clearly felt the same way - we were able to do something different.

We weren’t able to save Sunshine. His condition was too severe and advanced rapidly, and we lost him just days after his MRI.

But his story became something bigger than "money spent" on one life.

With the help of a veterinary neurosurgeon willing to think outside the box, Sunshine became what we believe - based on all available published literature and online sources we could find - to possibly be the first live Red fox kit in the United States to receive an official hydrocephalus diagnosis via MRI. For the first time, we weren’t guessing. We weren’t forced to label cases as “presumed.” We didn't have to wait until a necropsy (dissection of the body after death) report to hear, "Your assumption was correct - the kit had severe hydrocephalus". We were documenting. We were learning. We even had multiple surgeons from various states begin to show interest in potential surgical intervention, if it ever became an ethical option for a patient.

I didn’t get all the answers. But we took a step - honestly, it felt more like a leap - forward instead of standing still.

Hydrocephalus cases vary widely in severity, symptoms, and outcomes. Not every animal will be a candidate for treatment, and there will always be cases where euthanasia remains the most humane option. But I do believe there are also cases where medical management - and potentially even surgical intervention - may be both viable and ethical. Based on what we know about this condition in domestic dogs, it’s reasonable to expect that many of these animals may require permanent placement in a sanctuary setting. However, as we begin to better understand this condition in foxes - and develop ways to identify, treat, and manage it earlier - I don’t think it’s unreasonable to believe we may eventually uncover cases where, depending on mentation and severity, a return to the wild could be possible for certain individuals.

And that brings up a question I’ve been asked by several different professionals involved in the fields of wildlife medicine or conservation,

If there's a strong likelihood that they can’t be released, what’s the point?

(As I am reading this rough draft out loud, my 11-year-old daughter just cut me off - clearly confused and frustrated - and said, “Uh, maybe to let them live?” before I even began my next sentence. And honestly, I think the pure heart behind a child blurting that out says it all. I’m going to keep this note in the final draft.)

I understand and can respect the perspective that leads some professionals to not support wildlife in sanctuary settings, and am aware that many have likely been burned out or frustrated by seeing cases where suffering is prolonged simply to avoid the grief that comes with death. My line is simply drawn a little differently:

I believe that non-releasable wildlife rehab patients, if still able to live comfortable and content lives, still have a right to live. I believe their lives have value. I believe they can live full, enriching lives in a sanctuary setting and serve as powerful educational ambassadors for their species. In these cases specifically, though it's tough for me to explain if you haven't seen it yourself, many hydrocephalic foxes don’t experience the world the same way others do. They often lack "normal" fear responses and instead come across as incredibly social, curious, and “happy go lucky.” They seek out connection and affection. They show extreme joy almost every single time they sense their caretaker or cage mate's presence. And if we can find a way to ethically manage these cases long term, I believe that they have the potential to live meaningful lives while helping others understand and connect with wildlife in a deeper way.

Even if we don’t have all the answers yet, their stories still matter.

Losing Sunshine was heartbreaking. But, his case sparked emotion, curiosity, and support from thousands of people who came together in record time to help us push forward. His story became the beginning of a databank we are hoping to build upon, a foundation for future cases, and proof that these animals may actually deserve more than a default ending.

And I'm not even close to done! I have visions, ideas, colleagues I'm working with, aspirations, and goals that are constantly whirling around in my mind, but I don't want to divulge anything prematurely. For now, we need to start with the basics, and then keep laying one brick at a time for this foundation.

Every year, at least one of these babies comes into my care. And every loss hurts - these are some of my sweetest patients, so their ability to take a piece of me with them is expert level. But every year, I still believe each one deserves the same question to be asked:

“What if we try?"

I've created this fund for our rescue, The Red Fox Neurology Fund, to allow us to push that question forward. To designate funds that allow us to gather data, pursue diagnostics, explore treatment options, and continue building toward a future where “there’s nothing we can do” may no longer be the only answer.

With this particular fundraising goal, I’ll be honest, I’m relying on you all more than ever.

This isn’t something I can responsibly fund out of our day-to-day operating budget. The care of our current patients and our beloved permanent sanctuary residents always has to come first, and I cannot risk their well being by diverting too many funds into advanced diagnostics like this. At this stage, I’m not backed by grant funding or large scale philanthropic support (yet). I’ve had a lot of doors shut in my face because of my “lack of credentials,” so to speak. I’ve had professionals who were initially willing to engage suddenly refuse to communicate with me directly once they realized I’m not a veterinarian, even in cases where I was the one funding the services. There have been a lot of discouraging moments since I've started this pursuit, but I do my best to turn them into fuel to keep moving forward. So everything we do here - especially projects like this - is made possible directly through public support. That means I can only go as far as your donations allow me to go.

And I’m willing to go as far as we can, because I believe this matters.

If you believe in this work too and want to be part of digging deeper into these cases, your financial support truly makes a difference here.

Additionally, if anyone has connections to potential grant opportunities, private donors, or businesses that may be interested in supporting this kind of work, I would be incredibly grateful for any introductions or leads! Whether it’s help funding diagnostics like a set number of MRIs (which seem to typically range from $5,000 - $7,000 including required bloodwork), or supporting the long term development of this project, making the right connections could make a huge lasting impact.

You can reach me directly at info@arcticfoxdaily.org

For Sunshine, and for the ones that come after him.

Thank you.

- Kimberly DeFisher
President & Founder
Arctic Fox Daily Wildlife Rescue, Inc.

The Red Fox Neurology Fund

One hydrocephalus case changed everything. Now we keep going for the ones that come after.