The Long Shadow of the Black Fox
By Annie Catura
Black foxes are a rare sight along Colorado’s Front Range, their presence a living connection to a curious chapter in the state’s history. Once central to a bold industry that promised wealth as dazzling as the silver veins of old, these elusive animals now roam as symbols of resilience and mystery.
Dr. Menifee Howard, a Denver dentist with a passion for the outdoors, balanced perfecting smiles with carving turns on the slopes as president of the Denver Ski Club. An avid outdoorsman and entrepreneur, he saw more than just towering pines and rocky soil atop Genesee Mountain — he saw opportunity. He embarked on a daring enterprise with his partner, C.C. Reid, that promised “a new bonanza for Colorado.” To Howard, silver black foxes were “potential silver dollars running on four legs,” as described by journalist Burgess in a local newspaper article from the early 20th century.
In 1922, the pair secured two keys to their dream: land atop Genesee Mountain— now the site of the Genesee Town Center — and a shipment of pedigreed foxes, bred from stock so fine that furriers in London whispered its name with reverence. These foxes, descendants of pioneering Prince Edward Island experiments, were the crown jewels of the burgeoning silver fox fur trade, with pelts so sleek they seemed spun from moonlight.
Beginning in 1900, Charles Dalton and Sir Robert Oulton transformed fox breeding into a closely guarded empire on the eastern shores of Canada, centered on Prince Edward Island. By 1910, their prized fox pelts commanded extraordinary sums, becoming synonymous with luxury and exclusivity. In 1925, the industry’s international expansion reached a milestone with the 'Million Dollar Train,' a historic shipment of 855 live silver black foxes valued at $900 each, traveling from Prince Edward Island to the United States.
Yet, years before this monumental shipment, Howard and Reid had already staked their claim on Genesee Mountain, securing pedigreed foxes and positioning Colorado as a leader in the burgeoning silver black fox trade.
The Front Range, with its crisp, pine-scented air, cool summers and long winters, imbued foxes with unmatched richness and luster. Breeders clamored for kits raised in this ideal environment, where the secluded landscapes offered vixens the calm environment essential for raising their young. Combined with Colorado’s natural advantages, Howard and Reid’s ambition firmly established the state as a breeding ground for the United States' silver black fox industry.
The Colorado Fox Breeders’ first annual Silver Fox Show, held in Denver over Thanksgiving week in 1926, showcased the art and science of fox farming. Pioneering methods developed by Dalton and Oulton emphasized the importance of naturalistic settings to mimic foxes’ instincts and reduce stress. One notable innovation was the use of hollow log dens, which replicated the foxes' natural burrows. These dens provided secure, familiar shelters that supported healthier animals and improved breeding success, demonstrating how environmental design could enhance outcomes.
Farmers also began refining diets and pen designs, advancing techniques considered progressive for their time. During the Great Depression, silver black foxes offered a lifeline to struggling families, with pelts fetching princely sums and breeding pairs valued at up to $15,000 — enough to buy an off-grid mountain chalet today. Black foxes were so common in backyard pens that they became a familiar sight in the foothills. This legacy is reflected in local landmarks, such as the 'Silver Fox' trail at Alderfer/Three Sisters Park, which quietly honors this unique chapter in Colorado’s history.
Among the successful breeders was Elsie Ralston, daughter of Lucian Ralston, a homesteading pioneer on Lookout Mountain near where Rockland Community Church now stands. Ralston raised award-winning silver black foxes that contributed to Colorado’s golden age of fur farming.
By 1947, the silver black fox industry was a shadow of its former self. Oversaturation flooded the market and fickle fashion turned its gaze elsewhere, leaving silver fox fur in the dust. Farmers could spend $35 to produce a pelt that barely sold for $20. Jack Duckels, a fox farmer in Aurora, lamented, “I’ve seen the day when pelts sold for $20 and you could still make a profit — but not now.” Even Dr. Menifee Howard, the tireless champion of Colorado’s fur trade, could see the silver sheen was gone as noted by journalist Lusky in a local newspaper article from the mid-20th century.
By the 1970s, the industry had unraveled completely. Synthetic furs, shifting trends and the lure of mountain real estate erased its glittering promise. As profits dried up, many farmers made the difficult choice to open their pens and release their foxes into the wild. Today, wild black foxes still roam Colorado’s Front Range. They are elusive symbols of resilience that have outlasted both the boom and the bust of human ambition.
