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The Beast in the Garden: A Modern Parable of Man and Nature
The true tale of an edenic Rocky Mountain town and what transpired when a predatory species returned to its ancestral home.
When, in the late 1980s, residents of Boulder, Colorado, suddenly began to see mountain lions in their yards, it became clear that the cats had repopulated the land after decades of persecution. Here, in a riveting environmental fable that recalls Peter Benchley's thriller Jaws, journalist David Baron traces the history of the mountain lion and chronicles Boulder's effort to coexist with its new neighbors. A parable for our times, The Beast in the Garden is a scientific detective story and a real-life drama, a tragic tale of the struggle between two highly evolved man and beast.
When, in the late 1980s, residents of Boulder, Colorado, suddenly began to see mountain lions in their yards, it became clear that the cats had repopulated the land after decades of persecution. Here, in a riveting environmental fable that recalls Peter Benchley's thriller Jaws, journalist David Baron traces the history of the mountain lion and chronicles Boulder's effort to coexist with its new neighbors. A parable for our times, The Beast in the Garden is a scientific detective story and a real-life drama, a tragic tale of the struggle between two highly evolved man and beast.
289 pages, Kindle Edition
First published November 17, 2003
126 people are currently reading
2230 people want to read
About the author
David Baron
3 books61 followersDavid Baron is an award-winning journalist and author who writes about science, nature, and the American West. Formerly a science correspondent for NPR and science editor for the public radio program The World, he has also written for The New York Times, Washington Post, Wall Street Journal, Los Angeles Times, Scientific American, and other publications. While conducting research for his latest book, THE MARTIANS, he served as the Baruch S. Blumberg NASA/Library of Congress Chair in Astrobiology, Exploration, and Scientific Innovation. David is an avid eclipse chaser, and his TED Talk on the subject has been viewed more than 2 million times. An affiliate of the University of Colorado’s Center for Environmental Journalism, he lives in Boulder.
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May 15, 2013I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone by reading this book while walking on the Bonneville Shorline trail (where mountain lions have been spotted) above the town at dawn (when mountain lions hunt) the day before the author visited the USU campus. I hightailed it back home again - not wanting to be found eaten with a copy of the book by my side and undoubtedly win a Darwin Award.
September 5, 2019
1991. A young man disappears. His body is found two days later, torso bizarrely hollowed out and his organs missing. But it's not the work of a deranged murderer—he was hunted, stalked, killed—and eaten, by a wild animal. A mountain lion.
The story backs up to 1987 and builds, layer by layer, a suspenseful tale. Boulder Colorado is a special city—full of outdoorsy, nature loving residents. Deer roam freely. The citizens are almost without exception THRILLED when the mountain lions follow the deer, and begin to wander the city. Two of the VERY few people who are concerned about this are Michael Sanders, a naturalist working for Boulder County Parks and Open Space Department, and Jim Halfpenny, a renowned naturalist, tracker, and author, working at CU's Institute of Arctic and Alpine Research.
As the mountain lions become ever more bold, Michael and Jim become increasingly worried. No one will take them seriously—not Animal Control, not the District Wildlife Manager (aka Game Warden) for Boulder nor anyone at the Division of Wildlife, none of the very people that they are trying to protect.
The mountain lions become fearless around people. They begin climbing on roofs and jumping into dog pens, dining on dogs and cats with impunity. People trying to protect their pets are met with standoffs and aggressive growling. Even when a woman is stalked and treed by two lions who climb up after her and make a serious attempt on her life, the danger is ignored.
Comparisons are made with California and Montana and the fatal cougar attacks there. But no one does anything until 18 year old Scott, a fit, strong, athlete, is killed. In broad daylight, and mere yards from his high school. Killed and eaten, his body covered with twigs and dirt to cache the rest of it for later.
So many non-fiction books make the claim that they “read like an adventure story”, and so few of them truly do. This is a rare exception, a jewel of a book. Riveting, horrifying, and entertaining by turns. I have reread this numerous times because even though I know what's going to happen, the writing is so good that I get caught up in it every time!
The story backs up to 1987 and builds, layer by layer, a suspenseful tale. Boulder Colorado is a special city—full of outdoorsy, nature loving residents. Deer roam freely. The citizens are almost without exception THRILLED when the mountain lions follow the deer, and begin to wander the city. Two of the VERY few people who are concerned about this are Michael Sanders, a naturalist working for Boulder County Parks and Open Space Department, and Jim Halfpenny, a renowned naturalist, tracker, and author, working at CU's Institute of Arctic and Alpine Research.
As the mountain lions become ever more bold, Michael and Jim become increasingly worried. No one will take them seriously—not Animal Control, not the District Wildlife Manager (aka Game Warden) for Boulder nor anyone at the Division of Wildlife, none of the very people that they are trying to protect.
The mountain lions become fearless around people. They begin climbing on roofs and jumping into dog pens, dining on dogs and cats with impunity. People trying to protect their pets are met with standoffs and aggressive growling. Even when a woman is stalked and treed by two lions who climb up after her and make a serious attempt on her life, the danger is ignored.
Comparisons are made with California and Montana and the fatal cougar attacks there. But no one does anything until 18 year old Scott, a fit, strong, athlete, is killed. In broad daylight, and mere yards from his high school. Killed and eaten, his body covered with twigs and dirt to cache the rest of it for later.
So many non-fiction books make the claim that they “read like an adventure story”, and so few of them truly do. This is a rare exception, a jewel of a book. Riveting, horrifying, and entertaining by turns. I have reread this numerous times because even though I know what's going to happen, the writing is so good that I get caught up in it every time!
August 2, 2022
The contents of this book fall into three categories:
1. The plot: I found the plot incredibly interesting: Humans intentionally establish town on frontier of wilderness. Town attracts deer. Humans refuse to hunt, restrict, or remove deer. Deer attract mountain lions. Mountain lions habituate to suburbs. Mountain lions attack dogs. Humans defend the right of mountain lions to do so, refuse to hunt, restrict, or remove mountain lions. Government is useless. Mountain lions attack humans.
It's logical and easy reading with a sense of foreboding hanging over it all. The relevant scientific details and other research seem sound. The details of the attack and the aftermath are deeply distressing, but they're the sensible conclusion of leading events.
2. Fluff research: I have almost no tolerance for fluff backgrounds. I don't need to know the history of a town's buildings. I don't care about the floats in the city parade during the festival where the victim participated in a bike race 3 years prior.
I understand it can be a fine line between background fluff and important context - no one wants facts dropped in their lap. And it often depends on your interest in the relevant-adjacent facts. I didn't need to know what ancient fossils teach us about the relationships between ice age-era cats and early humans, but I tolerate it more because it's interesting (parade floats and roof materials are not).
Ultimately I think the plot is longer than an article, but I would've respected this book a lot more if it had been 150 pgs.
3. Author flaunts writing skills: A chapter intro like "Snow dusted the mountains like confectioner's sugar" has no place in this book. It's cheesy, distracting, and undermines the book's strength - research-based, cause-and-effect logical flow. If I ever describe a future (entirely innocent) victim as having a "do or die attitude", or as tied to a random wildlife management employee "by a feline thread", please take away all my keyboards.
1. The plot: I found the plot incredibly interesting: Humans intentionally establish town on frontier of wilderness. Town attracts deer. Humans refuse to hunt, restrict, or remove deer. Deer attract mountain lions. Mountain lions habituate to suburbs. Mountain lions attack dogs. Humans defend the right of mountain lions to do so, refuse to hunt, restrict, or remove mountain lions. Government is useless. Mountain lions attack humans.
It's logical and easy reading with a sense of foreboding hanging over it all. The relevant scientific details and other research seem sound. The details of the attack and the aftermath are deeply distressing, but they're the sensible conclusion of leading events.
2. Fluff research: I have almost no tolerance for fluff backgrounds. I don't need to know the history of a town's buildings. I don't care about the floats in the city parade during the festival where the victim participated in a bike race 3 years prior.
I understand it can be a fine line between background fluff and important context - no one wants facts dropped in their lap. And it often depends on your interest in the relevant-adjacent facts. I didn't need to know what ancient fossils teach us about the relationships between ice age-era cats and early humans, but I tolerate it more because it's interesting (parade floats and roof materials are not).
Ultimately I think the plot is longer than an article, but I would've respected this book a lot more if it had been 150 pgs.
3. Author flaunts writing skills: A chapter intro like "Snow dusted the mountains like confectioner's sugar" has no place in this book. It's cheesy, distracting, and undermines the book's strength - research-based, cause-and-effect logical flow. If I ever describe a future (entirely innocent) victim as having a "do or die attitude", or as tied to a random wildlife management employee "by a feline thread", please take away all my keyboards.
August 21, 2016
3.75 stars, really. Well-written, just not quite as dimensional as something by John Vaillant or as deeply characterized as a work by Timothy Egan... I was graduated from CU-Boulder in 1986 and lived in Boulder County till 2011. Now I live in a similar environment on the Western Slope, so this book pretty much summarizes my adulthood. Like everyone I have lots of lion tales to tell. Therefore, perhaps I found it less gripping than other readers did--I knew the story, I WAS the story. Everyone in it is more or less at least an FOAF. But on that level it couldn't help but be interesting... it was a kind of gossip. I also really appreciated learning more about Scott Lancaster, who I confess has always been in my consciousness as "that high school kid." I'm glad to know him better now.
I'm sorry about the subtitle, because even though I get it--the ecotone IS really the suburb, and the relevance is the repopulation of the suburban foothills by lions--Boulder itself is not and does not think of itself as a suburb, in that most suburbs are oriented toward a larger urban core, and Boulder really doesn't consider itself as being centered on Denver. Denver is merely an occasional option, a thing-to-do, for most Boulderites. It's another way in which Boulder thinks of itself as being different, another arrogance it has. Boulder is best thought of as an Ann Arbor or a Santa Barbara or Chapel Hill or an Austin or a Madison, only perhaps with a lot more going on than any of those places (or so it thinks), that by coincidence also happens to be located close to a major metropolitan area, or perhaps it's Denver that happens to be located near Boulder. Occasionally a member of a Boulder household may commute to Denver, but Denver is not "the city" in the way that San Francisco, say, is. Just saying, because part of the story is the irony of the way Boulder in particular has embraced its idea of "nature" and how that's in turn brought the beast back to the garden, and that in turn is about how Boulder views itself as different, which is also about how its made itself into an island, which is about how it's kept itself separate from Denver and the suburbs.
And yet, these other towns, which are actual suburbs, and some of which are not even in Colorado, and which have NOT done all this to create these little edens, are ALSO getting these deer and lion incursions, so, what's up with that, anyway? Maybe the argument of the book doesn't even hold up.
And that ain't Boulder on the cover. It might be Ned.
I wished he hadn't gone so guy-y for some of the scenes, like every breath and blood spurt during the lion hunt and every possible speculation for Scott Lancaster's last breaths. The Tarantino moments I could have done without. It was interesting to read of how they train hounds to hunt lions. The implication is that there's no efffective way to do this humanely--for the dogs, let alone the lions--actually, it seems less humane for the dogs.
So, that leads me to wonder if hunting lions is the way to manage them. It sounds like there's no ethical way to do it--if the dogs can't be humanely trained, then hunting should be out of the question. The books seems to argue that shooting them is the only way to go, though. But Wildlife officials seem to be taking other tacks with some success while Baron does not fully explore these. He lists a few but does not examine the levels of success. It would be interesting to know more. Also, I don't remember how often trappers and hunters in other cultures use dogs and what kinds of dogs they use (for tigers, etc). That would be interesting to know. Vaillant would be good to ask.
I'm sorry about the subtitle, because even though I get it--the ecotone IS really the suburb, and the relevance is the repopulation of the suburban foothills by lions--Boulder itself is not and does not think of itself as a suburb, in that most suburbs are oriented toward a larger urban core, and Boulder really doesn't consider itself as being centered on Denver. Denver is merely an occasional option, a thing-to-do, for most Boulderites. It's another way in which Boulder thinks of itself as being different, another arrogance it has. Boulder is best thought of as an Ann Arbor or a Santa Barbara or Chapel Hill or an Austin or a Madison, only perhaps with a lot more going on than any of those places (or so it thinks), that by coincidence also happens to be located close to a major metropolitan area, or perhaps it's Denver that happens to be located near Boulder. Occasionally a member of a Boulder household may commute to Denver, but Denver is not "the city" in the way that San Francisco, say, is. Just saying, because part of the story is the irony of the way Boulder in particular has embraced its idea of "nature" and how that's in turn brought the beast back to the garden, and that in turn is about how Boulder views itself as different, which is also about how its made itself into an island, which is about how it's kept itself separate from Denver and the suburbs.
And yet, these other towns, which are actual suburbs, and some of which are not even in Colorado, and which have NOT done all this to create these little edens, are ALSO getting these deer and lion incursions, so, what's up with that, anyway? Maybe the argument of the book doesn't even hold up.
And that ain't Boulder on the cover. It might be Ned.
I wished he hadn't gone so guy-y for some of the scenes, like every breath and blood spurt during the lion hunt and every possible speculation for Scott Lancaster's last breaths. The Tarantino moments I could have done without. It was interesting to read of how they train hounds to hunt lions. The implication is that there's no efffective way to do this humanely--for the dogs, let alone the lions--actually, it seems less humane for the dogs.
So, that leads me to wonder if hunting lions is the way to manage them. It sounds like there's no ethical way to do it--if the dogs can't be humanely trained, then hunting should be out of the question. The books seems to argue that shooting them is the only way to go, though. But Wildlife officials seem to be taking other tacks with some success while Baron does not fully explore these. He lists a few but does not examine the levels of success. It would be interesting to know more. Also, I don't remember how often trappers and hunters in other cultures use dogs and what kinds of dogs they use (for tigers, etc). That would be interesting to know. Vaillant would be good to ask.
December 17, 2015
My neighbor loaned me her signed copy of this book after a conversation about mountain lions. We've got 'em in our town and while a lot of us tend to romanticize them as big kitties, I think we all secretly know that they're really just out to eat us and our dogs. And cats. And trash, if we throw away chicken carcasses. But just in case I had any delusions about the nature of the predator in my backyard...
Anyway, here is what I appreciated about this book:
-The author keeps the tale mostly unbiased. I say "mostly" because the anti-Division of Wildlife sentiment is pretty strong. Besides that, though, neither the town/townsfolk of Boulder nor the mountain lions are represented as good or evil. Instead, each had their stories and it's up to the reader to make her own conclusions, should conclusions need to be made. I liked that.
-The story is sparked by the mountain lion that ate an Idaho Springs high school boy (which happened the year after I graduated from high school and it freaked a bunch of us out especially since we all grew up hearing that mountain lions don't attack people) but that's just where the story starts and ends. The middle is about everything that lead up to that moment, including Roosevelt coming to Colorado and hunting cougars (the feline type, not the over-40-human-female type, though maybe he hunted them, too, I don't know).
-It brings to light the need for re-education. Humans are changing the way nature works so we need to learn to adapt to the changes we've wrought and we need to be responsible about doing so. I thought this book illustrated that idea quite well.
-It seems that the author is a great researcher (I'm assuming he did the bulk of research firsthand and not via interns or research assistants or what have you) and is dedicated to finding all the information available on a topic, in this case mountain lions in general, their history in the Rocky Mountains, and specifically in Boulder County.
Some of my takeaways:
-This book made me terribly paranoid. I didn't let my cats go outside for two months. They wrecked the house, got sick, were miserable. Now they're allowed supervised time in the yard on a leash because I don't want them running off to be eaten by the mountain lion that is waiting in the tree out back. (No, there is no mountain lion waiting in the tree out back. That's just part of the paranoia I got while reading this book)
-I also looked back on my mountain lion encounters and realized I was both lucky not to be attacked by these ferocious killers (the author does mention that there's no reason to think this of cougars. They haven't become monsters. They're doing what mountain lions do, only now we're part of their territory so they're doing what they do in our presence. AND EATING US!) and stupid in that I did not react in a way that showed I was boss. I just stared at them. One was far away and I was in my car so there was no danger, but the first one I ever saw could easily have munched on me since we were only 10 feet away from each other. It was an awfully beautiful cat, though.
-I have to die sometime. If given choices, I'd choose being eaten by a predator over a dying in a car crash or of a terminal disease or by being killed by a fellow human. I feel good about taking my chances in nature. Yeah, it would be scary and if I survived, it would hurt like hell, but...as far as ways to die, this would rank pretty high on my list. Much better than dying on the toilet with a peanut butter and banana sandwich in hand.
So why the two stars?
Because reading this book was incredibly difficult for me. I am not a fan of the dramatic, reads-like-a-crime-novel, sensationalized style in which this book was written. It tested my patience. Had I written down every over-the-top, unnecessary moment, I'd have written down most of the book.
I did not need to know what the lion searcher's briefcase was made of. That detail never came up again and was irrelevant to the topic at hand. I did not appreciate the statement about Cassiopeia hanging in the sky in the shape of a "W" above a tree where a mountain lion was about to get tranqued. I questioned whether or not that information came up in an interview and, if so, was the interviewee just spouting off his astronomical knowledge? I wondered why an animal control officer came into the story - name and ruggedly handsome physical description given - if he was never mentioned again? What was the point of that one sentence? To let us know Boulder had hot animal control officers back in the day?
I felt that the author was writing this book specifically for the people of Boulder and, with the last few chapters, Idaho Springs. It was almost as if everyone who gave him any information on the subject wound up in the book. I'm sure that made every person mentioned go out and buy the book and then buy it again for friends and family so perhaps a great way to spike regional sales?
I had expected to find the author had been on hand for the entire cougar ordeal because some of the details he put out there are so conjecturey or so unrelated to the story that they could only come from first-hand experience (like Cassiopeia above the tree - why would anyone but the author think to remember that and then put it in the book?) Turns out, he lived in Boston at the time this all went down; he wasn't here for any of it. So while it comes across as almost a personal narrative with assistance from everyone else involved, no matter how slightly, it's not.
The one thing that went through my mind most often:
I was left feeling that while this author is obviously fantastic at the research aspect, he may not have been so good at sifting through information to create a solid, concise story. According to the information at the end, this had been his first endeavor at writing a book. He was a journalist by trade, so articles and such were his purview.
At the same time, I can see how this book would appeal to many readers, especially fans of James Patterson, John Grisham, Lee Child, and such. It's written in that suspenseful, (overly)informative style.
I would recommend this to readers who are not interested in non-fiction but want a gateway book that will get them more interested in the genre. As a true-crime type book, this would be a perfect crossover.
Anyway, here is what I appreciated about this book:
-The author keeps the tale mostly unbiased. I say "mostly" because the anti-Division of Wildlife sentiment is pretty strong. Besides that, though, neither the town/townsfolk of Boulder nor the mountain lions are represented as good or evil. Instead, each had their stories and it's up to the reader to make her own conclusions, should conclusions need to be made. I liked that.
-The story is sparked by the mountain lion that ate an Idaho Springs high school boy (which happened the year after I graduated from high school and it freaked a bunch of us out especially since we all grew up hearing that mountain lions don't attack people) but that's just where the story starts and ends. The middle is about everything that lead up to that moment, including Roosevelt coming to Colorado and hunting cougars (the feline type, not the over-40-human-female type, though maybe he hunted them, too, I don't know).
-It brings to light the need for re-education. Humans are changing the way nature works so we need to learn to adapt to the changes we've wrought and we need to be responsible about doing so. I thought this book illustrated that idea quite well.
-It seems that the author is a great researcher (I'm assuming he did the bulk of research firsthand and not via interns or research assistants or what have you) and is dedicated to finding all the information available on a topic, in this case mountain lions in general, their history in the Rocky Mountains, and specifically in Boulder County.
Some of my takeaways:
-This book made me terribly paranoid. I didn't let my cats go outside for two months. They wrecked the house, got sick, were miserable. Now they're allowed supervised time in the yard on a leash because I don't want them running off to be eaten by the mountain lion that is waiting in the tree out back. (No, there is no mountain lion waiting in the tree out back. That's just part of the paranoia I got while reading this book)
-I also looked back on my mountain lion encounters and realized I was both lucky not to be attacked by these ferocious killers (the author does mention that there's no reason to think this of cougars. They haven't become monsters. They're doing what mountain lions do, only now we're part of their territory so they're doing what they do in our presence. AND EATING US!) and stupid in that I did not react in a way that showed I was boss. I just stared at them. One was far away and I was in my car so there was no danger, but the first one I ever saw could easily have munched on me since we were only 10 feet away from each other. It was an awfully beautiful cat, though.
-I have to die sometime. If given choices, I'd choose being eaten by a predator over a dying in a car crash or of a terminal disease or by being killed by a fellow human. I feel good about taking my chances in nature. Yeah, it would be scary and if I survived, it would hurt like hell, but...as far as ways to die, this would rank pretty high on my list. Much better than dying on the toilet with a peanut butter and banana sandwich in hand.
So why the two stars?
Because reading this book was incredibly difficult for me. I am not a fan of the dramatic, reads-like-a-crime-novel, sensationalized style in which this book was written. It tested my patience. Had I written down every over-the-top, unnecessary moment, I'd have written down most of the book.
I did not need to know what the lion searcher's briefcase was made of. That detail never came up again and was irrelevant to the topic at hand. I did not appreciate the statement about Cassiopeia hanging in the sky in the shape of a "W" above a tree where a mountain lion was about to get tranqued. I questioned whether or not that information came up in an interview and, if so, was the interviewee just spouting off his astronomical knowledge? I wondered why an animal control officer came into the story - name and ruggedly handsome physical description given - if he was never mentioned again? What was the point of that one sentence? To let us know Boulder had hot animal control officers back in the day?
I felt that the author was writing this book specifically for the people of Boulder and, with the last few chapters, Idaho Springs. It was almost as if everyone who gave him any information on the subject wound up in the book. I'm sure that made every person mentioned go out and buy the book and then buy it again for friends and family so perhaps a great way to spike regional sales?
I had expected to find the author had been on hand for the entire cougar ordeal because some of the details he put out there are so conjecturey or so unrelated to the story that they could only come from first-hand experience (like Cassiopeia above the tree - why would anyone but the author think to remember that and then put it in the book?) Turns out, he lived in Boston at the time this all went down; he wasn't here for any of it. So while it comes across as almost a personal narrative with assistance from everyone else involved, no matter how slightly, it's not.
The one thing that went through my mind most often:
I was left feeling that while this author is obviously fantastic at the research aspect, he may not have been so good at sifting through information to create a solid, concise story. According to the information at the end, this had been his first endeavor at writing a book. He was a journalist by trade, so articles and such were his purview.
At the same time, I can see how this book would appeal to many readers, especially fans of James Patterson, John Grisham, Lee Child, and such. It's written in that suspenseful, (overly)informative style.
I would recommend this to readers who are not interested in non-fiction but want a gateway book that will get them more interested in the genre. As a true-crime type book, this would be a perfect crossover.
September 3, 2017
I read this book several years ago and liked it. It tells the story of the city of Boulder CO as it grew exponentially in the 1980s, feeding up against and consuming cougar country. Cougars were coming into yards to kill deer that were seeking food and refuge. Soon cougars were killing dogs as well. Ultimately, a high school student who was an athlete runner was killed and eaten by a cougar. Although the author is a good writer, and the book is an interesting read, I've rated it only two stars because it tells a very isolated story and does not present cougars in their full light. Instead, the book does not leave us with solutions nor prescriptions about living in cougar country, but only with a distorted tale of the sad demise of a boy because of people pushing the edge of the wildland-interface without taking necessary precautions.
August 7, 2022
Every time I told someone I was reading a book about mountain lions in Boulder they were surprised that there's enough content to write a book about it. I think for most authors that would be true, but David Baron did an excellent job squeezing every meaningful detail and moment of irony out of this story and puts it together in a really meaningful, interesting, and compelling story with an epilogue that is thoughtful, ahead of its time, and almost felt like fiction.
Impressively detailed, balanced vocabulary, and written well enough that you know what is coming the entire book and yet it is still mysterious and exciting. Definitely recommend for anyone interested in wildlife attacks.
Impressively detailed, balanced vocabulary, and written well enough that you know what is coming the entire book and yet it is still mysterious and exciting. Definitely recommend for anyone interested in wildlife attacks.
August 1, 2022
Sensationalist and decidedly anthropocentric. The author describes mountain lions as criminals and serial killers. The book is written in the style of a crime drama, with mountain lions as the villains and the local park official as the dashing hero. The book's best parts are when the author straightforwardly discusses the history and approaches of wildlife management. The forced crime-drama narrative was exhausting.
March 14, 2009
Very few authors can take a real event, announce at the beginning what happens (a cougar kills a human near Boulder, Colorado), and then recount a series of events leading up to this "crime" so that the narrative reads better than a compelling crime thriller from an accomplished fiction writer. It was a pleasure to read a book that builds so well and so satisfyingly.
March 13, 2024
Will I ever hike alone again?
March 7, 2021
In 1991, in a small community outside Boulder, Colorado, a mountain lion killed an eighteen year old student as he was running in the area around his high school. This attack was predicted by some in the local conservation community - and the possibility of it waved away by others in that same community, as mountain lions have been famously wary of humans in the past - and the lead up to, and the consequences of, this attack make up the book.
It's honestly pretty fascinating. The context of Boulder's environmental history, which has created large protected areas that have caused the local deer population to explode, has seen the slow recolonisation of the area by mountain lions, which were once hunted almost to extinction there. Those lions have, over time, become habituated to humans, no longer seeing them as threat. And indeed most of the residents of Boulder seemed thoroughly delighted to know that big cats existed in the region, and were occasionally rewarded with a glimpse of one. Thus the cats, feeling increasingly safe from interference, began wandering through back gardens and even, occasionally, eating a pet. And then they started going after humans...
The fascinating thing is that, even then, popular response was still to protect the lions. And, you know, I have sympathy for that, but the balancing act between protecting wildlife and protecting people is clearly a difficult one. As Baron points out, the history and emotions regarding conservation in Boulder came smack up against preservation of a different kind. It's really very, very interesting, with a considered presentation of all sides, albeit one that finally plumps for a more hands-on approach to wildlife management.
Also, that cover is gorgeous.
It's honestly pretty fascinating. The context of Boulder's environmental history, which has created large protected areas that have caused the local deer population to explode, has seen the slow recolonisation of the area by mountain lions, which were once hunted almost to extinction there. Those lions have, over time, become habituated to humans, no longer seeing them as threat. And indeed most of the residents of Boulder seemed thoroughly delighted to know that big cats existed in the region, and were occasionally rewarded with a glimpse of one. Thus the cats, feeling increasingly safe from interference, began wandering through back gardens and even, occasionally, eating a pet. And then they started going after humans...
The fascinating thing is that, even then, popular response was still to protect the lions. And, you know, I have sympathy for that, but the balancing act between protecting wildlife and protecting people is clearly a difficult one. As Baron points out, the history and emotions regarding conservation in Boulder came smack up against preservation of a different kind. It's really very, very interesting, with a considered presentation of all sides, albeit one that finally plumps for a more hands-on approach to wildlife management.
Also, that cover is gorgeous.
June 5, 2019
Fabulous book! A real life murder mystery where the murderer is a mountain lion, the victim is an 18 year old student athlete and the scene of the crime is Boulder, CO suburbs. This book brings into focus wildlife management and the unintended consequences of systemic efforts to remove predators from urban communities. It illustrates the battle of environmentalists - conservationists vs. preservationists and finding the right balance as we encroach ever more into wildlife habitats.
July 31, 2024
Nice summer read with good writing, pacing, vocabulary and scene setting. I got a bit tired of his listing of everyone’s hair color and what kind of shirt they wore, but I understand it. More fun were the old timey quotes. The science behind the behavior of our killer charismatic megafauna was quite interesting as was the politics behind human responses. The author did a good job of staying neutral too.
April 17, 2022
Fascinating (and frightening!) read about the suburban/wilderness relationship and what can happen when choosing to live on the front range. Mountain lions!
July 23, 2025
If you are interested in nature, and a little suspense, this book is for you! I thoroughly enjoyed this page turner and have a new respect for mountain lions.
April 19, 2018
An excellent book that is both an analysis and cautionary tale. A "must read" for hunters, suburbanites and environmentalists alike.
April 23, 2010
This was such a great book!! It centers on the mountain lion/human conflict in Boulder in the early 1990's, but the real story is all the decisions that were made up to that point that lead to the inevitable death of a young man by a mountain lion. The author does a really good job of weaving together the history of the eradication of natural preditors from the west, the settlement and growth of Boulder as the town it is (the "special" town it is!), and the story of mountain lions moving back into the Boulder area and their first interactions with the growing population in that area. If Boulder had not had such a liberal, hands off attitude toward the deer overpopulation in their town (due to the lack of natural preditors), there would not have been as many mountain lions coming into contact with humans. If wildlife departments and managers had not had such a staunch attitude that mountain lions "would never" challenge or hurt humans due to their "shy nature", they might have taken note of some of the first indications that mountain lions were becoming habituated to being around people, and no longer acting as shy and hesitant around them. I thought the author did a very good job of explaining the combination of factors that lead to the fatal interaction, without taking a strong bias and pointing the finger at only one of the groups involved in building the environment needed to bring the human and mountain lion together in such a dangerous situation. I can't wait to lend this book to my dad and have a good talk about it!
April 17, 2013
How much is the distance between (1) the awesome sight of a mountain lion stalking prey; and (2) the horror of being the prey? Not as much as you might think.
Nature is Boulder, Colorado's back yard, and that's the way residents want it. Deer flourish and become accustomed to humans. Mountain lions eat deer. So the lions flourish and become accustomed to humans, too.
A cat in the wild will run and hide from dogs (too much like wolves) and humans (too... strange). Boulder's mistake is to believe that the lions near their town will behave like lions in the wild; but the cats aren't in the wild anymore. Instead, lion sightings in populated areas increase. Then house cats disappear, and dogs are attacked. And finally, a high school jogger is attacked and killed.
David Baron's book makes this point repetitively, but his accomplishment is to tell the Boulder story in an even-handed, non-sensational way. Not an easy thing to do when a loss of life is involved, there were experts who predicted it would happen, experts who said it could never happen, bureaucracy, and some questionable motives.
Nature is Boulder, Colorado's back yard, and that's the way residents want it. Deer flourish and become accustomed to humans. Mountain lions eat deer. So the lions flourish and become accustomed to humans, too.
A cat in the wild will run and hide from dogs (too much like wolves) and humans (too... strange). Boulder's mistake is to believe that the lions near their town will behave like lions in the wild; but the cats aren't in the wild anymore. Instead, lion sightings in populated areas increase. Then house cats disappear, and dogs are attacked. And finally, a high school jogger is attacked and killed.
David Baron's book makes this point repetitively, but his accomplishment is to tell the Boulder story in an even-handed, non-sensational way. Not an easy thing to do when a loss of life is involved, there were experts who predicted it would happen, experts who said it could never happen, bureaucracy, and some questionable motives.
August 21, 2015
The biggest appeal of the book was the setting. I've been living in the front range for a bit and had spent time in a significant number of the places talked about in the book. The writing was exciting and fairly graphic at times. I appreciated the inclusion of lots of individual perspectives. The was a strong focus on the community and their reactions to these events. I do feel more informed about mountain lions after reading this book. I've been lucky enough to have two experiences with these animals in Colorado. The reverence you feel from seeing one of these animals is well represented in this book.
Certainly a good read for any one familiar with the outdoors in the Denver metro region.
Certainly a good read for any one familiar with the outdoors in the Denver metro region.
April 19, 2011
The rise in the population of "urbanized" mountain lions is chronicled here, specifically around the enviro-friendly confines of Yuppieland Boulder, Colorado in the 1980s and '90s. Increasing development, the deer population explosion and the reluctance of state wildlife officials to deal with the situation culminates in people/domestic animals/mountain lion clashes, ultimately with deadly results for all involved. Great book to read and discuss the current state of wildlife "management" in the United States today as well as ponder what exactly is "wilderness" and is there truly any left at all?
May 18, 2013
I really, really disliked the style of this book. He had a good story buried in there, something meaningful to communicate, but he did it very poorly. After discussing the book with others who had read it and listening to David Baron himself explain why he wrote as he did, I have a greater appreciation for the structure of the novel but I still think that if he wanted to draw readers in to his story he should have rethought the way that he wrote it.
March 24, 2014
This was like watching a train wreck in slow motion. You knew where it was headed, you wanted to look away, but you just couldn't do it.
The book got under my skin in a weird way. The author's style, with odd little details peppered throughout, had a way of putting me in the moment. He's a superb storyteller. I'm usually hesitant to hand out five stars, but I think this book deserves every one.
The book got under my skin in a weird way. The author's style, with odd little details peppered throughout, had a way of putting me in the moment. He's a superb storyteller. I'm usually hesitant to hand out five stars, but I think this book deserves every one.
October 27, 2019
Baron can write. The rare non-fiction writer who can take large swaths of information and multitudes of characters and contexts to shape a riveting narrative. I was often on the edge of my seat. A fascinating story about escalating tension in Boulder, Colorado as Cougar incidents increase and a largely environmental animal-loving community is unsure how to respond.
April 20, 2008
Why SHOULDN'T lions consider humans as potential prey?
The history of how lions in Colorado became increasingly inclined to prey on people is a fascinating mix of ecology, land use change, politics, and psychology--human and animal.
The history of how lions in Colorado became increasingly inclined to prey on people is a fascinating mix of ecology, land use change, politics, and psychology--human and animal.
June 6, 2017
The Beast in the Garden by David Baron has long been a favourite of mine. This is my second copy, having worn the first one through with constant revisits. An investigative exploration of the circumstances that led to the first adult human death from a mountain lion attack in over a century, it is a haunting and spine-chilling warning of our inability to respect the wild.
Baron expertly walks us through the sequence of events that resulted in what, for some, was the inevitable conclusion. We are introduced to Boulder, Colorado, in the late 80s and early 90s. We see its liberal political tendencies, its inclination towards nature, its protective tendencies to green spaces, and the people feeding and protecting the huge deer herd the non-hunting community harbours. We also learn of the falsehood underneath it all, of invasive species of plant, and water piped in from out of state to keep the green spaces green.
The story reads like a thriller. Shadows crossing roads in the middle of the night. Muffled rustlings and thumps on rear porches and verandas. And then...people's pets start showing up with strange wounds, or not showing up at all. The deer, the false wilderness...it all has attracted something truly wild. The cougar - the mountain lion, has moved into the suburbs.
As Division of Wildlife officials dismiss the concerns of the community and wildlife experts, a community famed for its non-hunting stance begins to question its principles. Pet and livestock attacks increase. Sightings increase. Then, as a new generation of lions descends on the town, they show they have fully adapted to their new environment. They hunt during the day, and they show no fear of humans. Little does Boulder know that it has reached a crisis point.
Baron introduces us not just to the events, but also the people who play such significant roles in the story. His journalistic background is revealed as the facts, and differing viewpoints, are collated and presented for the reader to make up their own mind. Baron deals with a fair hand, and with neutrality, as we read the story. The odd journalistic flair-up of sensationalism doesn't hinder the facts, and aids the pace of the narrative. We have the opportunity to explore the historic record, and contemplate the bigger picture by doing so.
For anyone interested in our relationship with predators, wildlife management, eco-politics, or just looking for a quality, intriguing read, I can't recommend this book enough.
Baron expertly walks us through the sequence of events that resulted in what, for some, was the inevitable conclusion. We are introduced to Boulder, Colorado, in the late 80s and early 90s. We see its liberal political tendencies, its inclination towards nature, its protective tendencies to green spaces, and the people feeding and protecting the huge deer herd the non-hunting community harbours. We also learn of the falsehood underneath it all, of invasive species of plant, and water piped in from out of state to keep the green spaces green.
The story reads like a thriller. Shadows crossing roads in the middle of the night. Muffled rustlings and thumps on rear porches and verandas. And then...people's pets start showing up with strange wounds, or not showing up at all. The deer, the false wilderness...it all has attracted something truly wild. The cougar - the mountain lion, has moved into the suburbs.
As Division of Wildlife officials dismiss the concerns of the community and wildlife experts, a community famed for its non-hunting stance begins to question its principles. Pet and livestock attacks increase. Sightings increase. Then, as a new generation of lions descends on the town, they show they have fully adapted to their new environment. They hunt during the day, and they show no fear of humans. Little does Boulder know that it has reached a crisis point.
Baron introduces us not just to the events, but also the people who play such significant roles in the story. His journalistic background is revealed as the facts, and differing viewpoints, are collated and presented for the reader to make up their own mind. Baron deals with a fair hand, and with neutrality, as we read the story. The odd journalistic flair-up of sensationalism doesn't hinder the facts, and aids the pace of the narrative. We have the opportunity to explore the historic record, and contemplate the bigger picture by doing so.
For anyone interested in our relationship with predators, wildlife management, eco-politics, or just looking for a quality, intriguing read, I can't recommend this book enough.
March 14, 2021
[4.5 stars] David Baron’s nonfiction account of how mountain lions descended the Rocky Mountain foothills into Boulder, Colo., neighborhoods is the best environmental nonfiction book I’ve read, and, quite frankly, one of the finest nonfiction books I’ve read – and that’s a genre I frequent.
Seemingly unfazed by humans, the mountain lions’ natural hunting instincts shifted from deer to domestic animals, and over the course of two years residents would witness an ever-escalating ecological calamity that would come to a head on a running trail.
Baron presents the events as a tense, slowly unfolding disaster complete with disagreeing citizens, unconcerned politicians and a few people determined to raise the alarm. If you replaced the great white shark in “Jaws” with a group of mountain lions, the plot of that movie (I haven’t read the original) and this book would be eerily similar.
Unlike Timothy C. Winegard’s “The Mosquito: A Human History of Our Deadliest Predator” and Dan Egan’s “The Death and Life of the Great Lakes,” that often lacked focus and bogged the reader down with minutiae, Baron keeps the narrative tight and focused.
While some chapters might contain a few pages about the United States’ history with mountain lions, or President Theodore Roosevelt’s legacy of conservation that influenced modern approaches to human and wildlife symbiosis, the focus stays on Boulder in the late-1980s and early-1990s, and the political and environmental situation that led to the proliferation of urban mountain lions.
While Baron does have a few writing flourishes that seemed a bit extra – for example, he starts one chapter with “Two days after the old year yielded to the new…” – the narrative is well-researched, accessibly written, and frankly, terrifying. Oftentimes while reading about the mountain lion encounters my pulse raced.
This is a nonfiction book that on the surface appears to be about one, rather niche micro-history, but it speaks to a bigger discussion – how humans are impacting wild animals from the ice caps to our backyards.
As someone that’s lived in densely populated areas my entire life, the assorted rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, birds – both of song and prey – and the occasional deer, opossum or raccoon don’t raise many alarms. But the decisions we make about our “land” can have devastating consequences to our local ecosystem. Reading this raised my “think global, act local” consciousness.
Seemingly unfazed by humans, the mountain lions’ natural hunting instincts shifted from deer to domestic animals, and over the course of two years residents would witness an ever-escalating ecological calamity that would come to a head on a running trail.
Baron presents the events as a tense, slowly unfolding disaster complete with disagreeing citizens, unconcerned politicians and a few people determined to raise the alarm. If you replaced the great white shark in “Jaws” with a group of mountain lions, the plot of that movie (I haven’t read the original) and this book would be eerily similar.
Unlike Timothy C. Winegard’s “The Mosquito: A Human History of Our Deadliest Predator” and Dan Egan’s “The Death and Life of the Great Lakes,” that often lacked focus and bogged the reader down with minutiae, Baron keeps the narrative tight and focused.
While some chapters might contain a few pages about the United States’ history with mountain lions, or President Theodore Roosevelt’s legacy of conservation that influenced modern approaches to human and wildlife symbiosis, the focus stays on Boulder in the late-1980s and early-1990s, and the political and environmental situation that led to the proliferation of urban mountain lions.
While Baron does have a few writing flourishes that seemed a bit extra – for example, he starts one chapter with “Two days after the old year yielded to the new…” – the narrative is well-researched, accessibly written, and frankly, terrifying. Oftentimes while reading about the mountain lion encounters my pulse raced.
This is a nonfiction book that on the surface appears to be about one, rather niche micro-history, but it speaks to a bigger discussion – how humans are impacting wild animals from the ice caps to our backyards.
As someone that’s lived in densely populated areas my entire life, the assorted rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, birds – both of song and prey – and the occasional deer, opossum or raccoon don’t raise many alarms. But the decisions we make about our “land” can have devastating consequences to our local ecosystem. Reading this raised my “think global, act local” consciousness.
April 29, 2019
As a native to the Western Slope of Colorado, mountain lions are a given. I’ve always been fascinated by the solitary predator that has a monopoly on such a vast strand of habitat compared to its feline relatives. I was SO eager to read this book when I stumbled on it and it didn’t disappoint. In “The Beast in the Garden” David Baron chronicles the events that lead to the fatal mountain lion attack on high school student Scott Lancaster in Idaho Springs, CO in the early 90’s. From increasingly large deer herds in the Boulder, CO area to the return of the puma in residential suburbs, “The Beast in the Garden” is an astonishing tale of the precarious relationship between man and wild.
Baron captures the arch of the mountain lion with impeccable detail. Sometimes the detail was redundant to the story, but far from focusing on the individual man-eating cat Baron takes the reader on a (pre)historical journey. “The Beast in the Garden” offers riveting tales throughout mankind’s battle with predatory felines, demonstrating how shifting political attitudes shaped habitat and populations and, more impressively, how early relatives of humanity struggled with the sabre-tooth ancestors of the modern puma. The blending of natural history and biology greatly enhanced the journalistic-like retelling of Boulder County citizens with its returning mountain lion population and gave an important WHY to the WHAT.
Ultimately this book made me think of nature in a way I haven’t before, while also perhaps greatly enhancing my paranoia during hikes in the Colorado National Monument. I think we have a tendency to view the wild as a free range type zoo, carefully curated and abated like our urban sprawl. In “The Beast in the Garden” Baron reminds us that the wild is very much wild, and doesn’t become less so in our picket-fence lawns or alleyways. As humanity continues to ignore mounting concerns of climate change and habitat destruction, Baron’s story is likely to play out at an accelerated rate with a wide new cast of characters again and again.
Baron captures the arch of the mountain lion with impeccable detail. Sometimes the detail was redundant to the story, but far from focusing on the individual man-eating cat Baron takes the reader on a (pre)historical journey. “The Beast in the Garden” offers riveting tales throughout mankind’s battle with predatory felines, demonstrating how shifting political attitudes shaped habitat and populations and, more impressively, how early relatives of humanity struggled with the sabre-tooth ancestors of the modern puma. The blending of natural history and biology greatly enhanced the journalistic-like retelling of Boulder County citizens with its returning mountain lion population and gave an important WHY to the WHAT.
Ultimately this book made me think of nature in a way I haven’t before, while also perhaps greatly enhancing my paranoia during hikes in the Colorado National Monument. I think we have a tendency to view the wild as a free range type zoo, carefully curated and abated like our urban sprawl. In “The Beast in the Garden” Baron reminds us that the wild is very much wild, and doesn’t become less so in our picket-fence lawns or alleyways. As humanity continues to ignore mounting concerns of climate change and habitat destruction, Baron’s story is likely to play out at an accelerated rate with a wide new cast of characters again and again.
July 22, 2018
I enjoyed this book more than expected. I read a lot of nature/environmental topics but man eating beasts typically does not make the list. However I have an interest in how the public reacts to predators because I personally believe predators are mandatory for a healthy ecosystem.
The book is somewhat dated. I live on the east coast and spend quite a bit of time in the Appalachians - we now acknowledge (finally) that we have mountain lions. Spending a lot of time in the woods where we are already loaded with black bears has shown me how foolish the public is with wild animals. From feeding the deer to feeding the bears when the rangers aren't looking, no matter how much people are warned, begged or educated. There's no stopping humans from doing exactly what they want to no matter the consequence.
Because I believe predators are necessary, I also believe we must come to terms with them and allow them to be wild animals or it's going to be a big mess. I've worked with re-introduction programs for years and am at a point of despair because of humans. They leave behind messes through acclimated wildlife and the next person pays for that, sometimes harshly. It's maddening.
I feel a little better about this now after reading 'The Beast in the Garden'. I feel as if maybe we will get through the cycle of stupid and perhaps there is a chance we can live compatibly with wildlife. Eventually.
I'm also a tad less likely to go solo camping.
The book is somewhat dated. I live on the east coast and spend quite a bit of time in the Appalachians - we now acknowledge (finally) that we have mountain lions. Spending a lot of time in the woods where we are already loaded with black bears has shown me how foolish the public is with wild animals. From feeding the deer to feeding the bears when the rangers aren't looking, no matter how much people are warned, begged or educated. There's no stopping humans from doing exactly what they want to no matter the consequence.
Because I believe predators are necessary, I also believe we must come to terms with them and allow them to be wild animals or it's going to be a big mess. I've worked with re-introduction programs for years and am at a point of despair because of humans. They leave behind messes through acclimated wildlife and the next person pays for that, sometimes harshly. It's maddening.
I feel a little better about this now after reading 'The Beast in the Garden'. I feel as if maybe we will get through the cycle of stupid and perhaps there is a chance we can live compatibly with wildlife. Eventually.
I'm also a tad less likely to go solo camping.
June 1, 2020
I came across this book in kind of an unusual way. I was reading the most recent issue of Rue Morgue magazine, in which they were reviewing the latest book from Max Brooks, which comes out next month. This book was mentioned as a side note as part of the feature, and it randomly struck my fancy so I ordered it. It was SO INTERESTING. You might not think that a book about mountain lions encroaching on suburbia (or perhaps it is the other way around?) would be all that thrilling, but truly this reads like a true crime novel where the killer is also an endangered species. A little bit like Silence of the Lambs, a little bit like Jaws, and a little bit like a nature documentary, this book taught me so much about mountain lions as a species and gave me a lot to think about when it comes to how we interact with wildlife. It is a fast and thrilling read, every bit as scintillating as it is educational. Come for the naturalism and stay for the suspense and brutal maulings, where both humans and animals take turns being victim and attacker, and spend time thinking about on what side you fall.
***Trigger Warning: there are several dogs that perish in this book, through fairly gory means. The descriptions aren't over the top, but it is sad. If that kind of thing is deeply upsetting to you, you may want to decide whether you can skim over those passages, or whether this book isn't for you. For what it's worth, I am a huge dog lover and I managed to grit my teeth and bear it.***
***Trigger Warning: there are several dogs that perish in this book, through fairly gory means. The descriptions aren't over the top, but it is sad. If that kind of thing is deeply upsetting to you, you may want to decide whether you can skim over those passages, or whether this book isn't for you. For what it's worth, I am a huge dog lover and I managed to grit my teeth and bear it.***
September 9, 2022
Boulder, Colorado, was a community of ultra-liberals who believed in living in concert with nature. Of co-existing with wildlife. Of tolerating the occasional encounter with dangerous animals as a price they were willing to pay for the privilege of living in such a liberal and forward-looking community.
When mountain lions moved into the area, and they began to suffer the loss of the mule deer that had become almost tame, they accepted it as a natural consequence of overpopulation. When these nocturnal and once-shy predators began taking their pets, they become mildly concerned. But when an 18-year-old jogger is killed and partially eaten by a cougar, and it happened on a sunny afternoon in January, 1991, Boulderites were forced to face reality: if they were to coexist with dangerous wildlife, they would need to take precautions.
Their world had become a chillier place. For their survival and that of their children and their pets, they would need to accept the rule of nature, and live within its boundaries.
It's a fascinating book, chock-full of information about predator-prey animals, their habits and behaviors. Suburban America, take note. As we encroach farther and farther into their territories, we can expect not only changes in ingrained behaviors but also unexpected dangers and encounters for which we must be prepared.
When mountain lions moved into the area, and they began to suffer the loss of the mule deer that had become almost tame, they accepted it as a natural consequence of overpopulation. When these nocturnal and once-shy predators began taking their pets, they become mildly concerned. But when an 18-year-old jogger is killed and partially eaten by a cougar, and it happened on a sunny afternoon in January, 1991, Boulderites were forced to face reality: if they were to coexist with dangerous wildlife, they would need to take precautions.
Their world had become a chillier place. For their survival and that of their children and their pets, they would need to accept the rule of nature, and live within its boundaries.
It's a fascinating book, chock-full of information about predator-prey animals, their habits and behaviors. Suburban America, take note. As we encroach farther and farther into their territories, we can expect not only changes in ingrained behaviors but also unexpected dangers and encounters for which we must be prepared.
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