Helping to Ensure a 21st-Century Fox : Wildlife: Graduate student tracks behavior patterns of the animals to determine the effect of humans’ encroachment on their habitat.

They live in wooded areas of the Tucker Wildlife Sanctuary. They subsist on a diet consisting largely of manzanita, toyon seeds and coffee berry. Shy and secretive by nature, they appear to be terrified by the onslaught of development crashing in around them.

Noisy choppers from the El Toro Marine Corps Air Station, mountain bikers ascending the hills by the hundreds, lavish homes creeping ever closer to the land they’ve traversed for centuries--these are just some of the enemies of the gray fox.

But Ralph (Bud) Matthews is here to help.

Matthews, 36, is a graduate student at Cal State Fullerton, where he’s working on a master’s thesis titled “The Activity Patterns of the Gray Fox in the California Chaparral.” To some extent, the early data says as much about the region as it does about the fretful fox.

This five- to eight-pound animal exists “in a fast-shrinking environment,” Matthews said. “The gray fox used to run all over Orange County, even in the lowlands. You could see it on the campus of Cal State Fullerton and in the Anaheim Hills. Now, we’re taking away its entire habitat. In this region, it’s learning--no, having --to survive on small little islands of life. And it’s a rough go.”

In other words, it may be an endangered species in the making, at least in California.

Since April, Matthews has lived in a home just past the entrance of the sanctuary, which is owned and operated by Cal State Fullerton in the midst of scenic, anachronistic Modjeska Canyon, named for the Polish actress who once held title to much of it.

Matthews studies the gray fox in six-hour shifts--6 p.m. to midnight, midnight to 6 a.m., 6 a.m. to noon. He and his graduate school colleagues have attached collars bearing small radio transmitters to seven members of the species. The transmitters each day open up a world of new information.

To collar the foxes, he sets a trap, using wet cat food--tuna, liver or shrimp--as bait. Once the fox steps in, the door slams shut. Matthews and his crew arrive shortly after sunrise, when they put the fox to sleep for about half an hour using Ketamine, which he injects after pinning the animal’s thigh against the side of the cage with a wooden dowel. But not before enduring a few growls or barks, which in his words sound like a high-pitched “yip-yip-yip.”

He then attaches a small radio transmitter made by Televit, a Swedish company, and with the help of a variety of computer programs, tracks the movements of the foxes to get a sense of what and when they eat, where they go, and other behavior patterns.

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The trapping part of the project is complete. It took about 80 traps to catch the seven foxes, Matthews said, noting that they appear to be extremely active from sunset to almost sunrise. He and his crew, however, are often busy around the clock.

They can usually be found trekking up to the 3,500-foot elevation of Laurel Spring, one of the more research-friendly areas of the Cleveland National Forest, where Matthews does much of his work, when he and his colleagues aren’t dodging the spotlights of El Toro helicopters.

“Because they use night vision, the helicopters fly without lights,” said James Wilson, 26, one of Matthews’ fox-hunting associates. “One night, this chopper gets almost on top of me, puts the spotlight right on me, and then ascends right over my head. It’s just part of the fun we have.”

The fun also includes the other species common to the Cleveland National Forest--mountain lions, turkey vultures, rattlesnakes, golden eagles, bobtail rabbits, bobcats, soaring hawks, mule deer, possums, skunks, squirrels, raccoons, acorn woodpeckers, even tarantulas.

“This will be the third year that students of mine have studied foxes,” said Barry Thomas, director of the Tucker Wildlife Sanctuary and professor of biology at Cal State Fullerton. “We really know nothing about the foxes in this part of the world. The last time such a survey was done was from 1937 to 1941.”

Much of Matthews’ study concerns “how urban development is changing the lifestyle of this animal,” Thomas said. “We assume it’s a big negative but won’t really know until the study is complete,” in June, 1996.

On a recent Friday night in San Diego, a fox made news when an orange-haired member of the species appeared in the outfield of Jack Murphy Stadium for about three minutes during a game between the San Diego Padres and the Chicago Cubs.

That , Matthews said, was a red fox, an exotic import brought to the United States by British immigrants, who used it to re-create their legendary fox hunts. The gray fox is smaller, about half the size of a red fox, and much more docile.

The red fox is “essentially an urban animal,” Matthews said. “In that respect, they’re similar to coyotes, who don’t mind eating out of your trash or dodging your headlights. Trust me, the gray fox would never be seen at a baseball game.”

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Reed-thin and sporting a goatee that makes him look more like a Viennese psychiatrist than the avid outdoorsman he is, Matthews said he could never be part of the coat-and-tie crowd. He longs to operate a wildlife sanctuary similar to the 12-acre version in Modjeska Canyon.

But before that, he hopes to complete a study that may show the National Forest Service what effect urban development, mountain bikers and military flyovers are having on his friend, the gray fox, which isn’t yet an endangered species but could one day be afforded the same protections as the California gnatcatcher or the spotted owl.

“I love the gray fox,” Matthews said, eyeing a stuffed version in the museum of the wildlife sanctuary. “It has big eyes. People love animals with big eyes. I also love nature, because it’s incredibly complex. . . . Every day is a new adventure, and the fox has shown me plenty. I just hope he’s around in the future. We aren’t making it easy for him.”