This weekend, homes across the English-speaking world echoed with the quirky chorus of “Wa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pow!” and “Hatee-hatee-hatee-ho!” – sounds instantly recognizable as lines from the Norwegian comedy duo Ylvis’s viral hit, “What Does the Fox Say?”. For those in the know, joining in the infectious rhythm is almost irresistible. “Joff-tchoff-tchoffo-tchoffo-tchoff!” becomes a playful, if nonsensical, way to connect with the global phenomenon that has captured millions.
Like so many others who have clicked play, the “What Does the Fox Say?” video is undeniably funny and catchy. It’s the kind of sing-along that burrows into your brain, reminiscent of childhood camp songs, yet with a distinctly modern, internet-age twist. As cultural commentators have noted, the song is more than just an earworm; it’s a head-scratcher, prompting surprisingly profound questions. It makes you wonder, “Why is this bizarre animal noise song so utterly captivating?” and perhaps more fundamentally, “Should I actually reconsider what I think I know about animal sounds?” And, of course, the question at the heart of it all, echoing through living rooms and online forums alike: “Wait, seriously, what sound does a fox make?”
One might turn to practical, real-world experience for an answer. As one astute observer noted, “We actually know what a fox says… It screams, and it sounds a lot like a human scream.” This empirical, almost scientific approach offers a solution, grounding the song’s central question in observable reality. However, while this might satisfy a thirst for factual knowledge, it only scratches the surface of the song’s deeper appeal. “What Does the Fox Say?” isn’t really about accurate animal mimicry; it’s about humanity’s humorous, often clumsy, attempts to articulate the sounds of the animal kingdom. It’s a celebration, and a gentle parody, of onomatopoeia – those words that strive to imitate the very sounds they represent.
Alt text: An elderly man reads a picture book to a young child, visually representing the early introduction of animal sounds and onomatopoeic words in childhood learning.
Animal sounds are prime examples of onomatopoeia and are often among the first words a baby learns. “Moo,” “quack,” and “woof” enter a child’s vocabulary almost as readily as “mama” and “dada.” The video cleverly nods to this, featuring scenes of an elderly man reading to a child, a subtle reminder of this foundational stage of language acquisition. Part of the comedic charm of “What Does the Fox Say?” lies in the playful absurdity of adults, champagne flutes in hand at a sophisticated gathering, wholeheartedly embracing this childlike impulse to mimic the animal world.
Adding to the humor is the delightful disconnect between the human performers and the animals they portray. This isn’t the uncanny valley of hyper-realistic animal impersonation. Think less of a disturbingly convincing animalistic performance and more of a lighthearted children’s picture book come to life. In the world of “What Does the Fox Say?”, the humans remain distinctly, and hilariously, human. When the “elephant man” confidently announces “toot” from the porch, the absurdity is amplified. His “toot” captures the essence of an elephant’s sound about as accurately as his makeshift costume captures the majesty of the animal – which is to say, not very much at all. The animal costumes and sounds in “What Does the Fox Say?” are not imitations of real animals, but rather caricatures, mimicking the simplified, cartoon-like icons we use to represent animals in our cultural imagination.
In this playful way, “What Does the Fox Say?” subtly delivers a sophisticated lesson about language itself. It highlights our innate human desire for a “pure” language, one where words possess a magical, direct link to the objects and sounds they signify. Yet, it simultaneously exposes the inherent illusion of such a language. Linguists, like Ferdinand de Saussure, have long taught us that language is fundamentally arbitrary. Words don’t have an intrinsic connection to what they represent. There’s nothing inherently “cat-like” about the word “cat.” Instead, “cat” signifies a cat because it is not a “rat” or a “mat” – its meaning arises from its place within a system of differences.
Alt text: A still image from the “What Does the Fox Say” music video featuring performers in cartoonish animal costumes, highlighting the symbolic and non-realistic portrayal of animals.
Similarly, the sounds “neigh” and “horse” are no more inherently connected to the equus ferus than if they were spelled out in Morse code. (The video itself seems aware of this, humorously questioning if a h-0-0-0-rse would recognize its name in m-0-0-0-rse code). Words gain meaning through their systematic relationships within language, a chain of signifiers, rather than through any inherent, natural connection to the real world. The fact that onomatopoeic words differ across languages – a dog says “ouah-ouah” in French and “wan-wan” in Japanese, while in English it’s “woof” – further reinforces this. Even these “sound-alike” terms are shaped by linguistic conventions rather than purely mirroring natural sounds.
Onomatopoeia originates from the Greek words for name + making. It reflects the basic human drive to name and categorize the world around us, to capture and communicate the essence of things. Yet, the term’s very etymology reveals the inherent challenge: we make the names; we don’t simply discover pre-existing labels. Despite our yearning to understand things “as they truly are,” our attempts to name and define them are always, to some degree, approximations. Still, this fundamental human drive to know and to name persists. “What is your sound… Will we ever know,” the lead singer croons, lamenting, or perhaps playfully celebrating, the fact that what the fox truly says “will always be a mystery.” In its own whimsical way, “What Does the Fox Say?” truly does engage with existential questions that have occupied philosophers and poets for centuries, all while making us laugh and sing along to bizarre animal noises.
