4.5★s
“Those of us who have barnacled ourselves to inhospitable places may be trying to avoid people not because we do not like people, but because we love the things that people destroyed. Wild things. Horizons. Trolls.”

Fox and I is a memoir by American teacher and writer, Catherine Raven. After an unsupportive upbringing, the author manages to attain a PhD in Biology, lives in an off-grid mountain cottage in Montana and teaches remotely.

She might be considered reclusive: “Just as I’ve always been alone, I’ve never felt lonely. But I did want to fit in somewhere and belong to something. I tried lashing myself to the land, but it wasn’t reciprocating. Land, I discovered, does not behave like a pet, offering unconditional love just because you own it. I thought I was buying space and rocks and dirt and a creek, and instead I ended up with a community of animals who wanted me to work for my welcome.”

The fox who visits daily, and eventually becomes her friend, appears in some of her slides for her students on their Yellowstone Park field trips, and immediately provokes questions. Raven recalls associates during her ranger work warning her not to anthropomorphise. She feels curious and wonders “Was I imagining Fox’s personality?”

She decides to map the relationship, to be able to explain it, should there be further questions. She goes back to before their paths first crossed, and tells of “The Great Vole Debacle”, which becomes an illustration of how small actions (clearing land and building a house, feeding egg yolks to magpies, collecting seeds, chasing off dogs and feral cats) can ultimately have unpredictable consequences.

“Owning land is a big responsibility. Every step taken, path set, weed pulled, and tree planted fosters a hundred million or so consequences. A great land baron, Nature’s tenant in chief, must justify her actions and their consequences.”

Raven meanders through the story of her initial encounters with Fox, often with lengthy digressions to illustrate a point, describing how she would sit and read to him, games they played and activities they pursued. She recounts those occasions when she returned from time away to no Fox, convinced that he had met with an unexpected end.

Occasionally, Raven swaps the narrative to Fox’s perspective, giving him a personality without the “sin” of anthropomorphising. Tennis Ball, the magpie, also gets a voice.

Raven credits the friendship with allowing her to understand what truly matters in her life: “Like a forest, my life had progressed through several stages and was reaching the climax phase. I knew my relationship with Fox was more important than anything else in my life, and I could see that my purpose would be to tell his story. And purpose, I now knew, was more important than profession.”

Rven’s memoir is a feast of wildlife and botanical description that will appeal especially to those who love or appreciate American flora and fauna. This is a moving, thought-provoking and illuminating read.
This unbiased review is from an uncorrected proof copy provided by NetGalley and Spiegel & Grau.