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A Hunger for High Country: One Woman's Journey to the Wild in Yellowstone Country
Before the 1970s few women were employed by the United States Forest Service. During the 1960s and 70s new environmental and fair employment laws meant that the Forest Service began to hire talented women in professional careers. For the first time women began working as wildlife biologists, geologists, soil scientists, and fisheries biologists for the U.S. Forest Service. A Hunger for High Country is the story of one of these women.
Set in the national forests surrounding Yellowstone National Park, A Hunger for High Country is part memoir and part profile of a time and place. Susan Marsh finds her background and values often place her at odds with the agency she works for, and what was supposed to be her dream job in Montana ends in sorrow and frustration after a six year long struggle to fit in. Humbled by her failures, and the part she played in her own downfall, she begins again in the mountains of western Wyoming where she finds refuge and inspiration in nature.
Susan Marsh shares with us not only a vivid portrait of what being a professional woman in a land management agency was like during this time period, but also of the Forest Service itself. Encounters with wolves and grizzly bears, outlaws and renegade lawmen, and moments of beauty inspired by wonder in wild country become the scenes through which Marsh’s palpable appreciation for nature are fully rendered on the page.
A Hunger for High Country will appeal to anyone interested in the Forest Service, wild land conservation, Yellowstone, and women’s experiences in the West.
Set in the national forests surrounding Yellowstone National Park, A Hunger for High Country is part memoir and part profile of a time and place. Susan Marsh finds her background and values often place her at odds with the agency she works for, and what was supposed to be her dream job in Montana ends in sorrow and frustration after a six year long struggle to fit in. Humbled by her failures, and the part she played in her own downfall, she begins again in the mountains of western Wyoming where she finds refuge and inspiration in nature.
Susan Marsh shares with us not only a vivid portrait of what being a professional woman in a land management agency was like during this time period, but also of the Forest Service itself. Encounters with wolves and grizzly bears, outlaws and renegade lawmen, and moments of beauty inspired by wonder in wild country become the scenes through which Marsh’s palpable appreciation for nature are fully rendered on the page.
A Hunger for High Country will appeal to anyone interested in the Forest Service, wild land conservation, Yellowstone, and women’s experiences in the West.
192 pages, Paperback
First published November 1, 2014
7 people are currently reading
393 people want to read
About the author
Susan Marsh
3 books7 followersI am a writer, naturalist, and artist. The beauty I find in forests and mountains never fails to move me, and I have never strayed far from places that inspire me. I am interested in people’s ability to discover hidden aspects of themselves through encounters with wild nature, and how we change as a result. Whether in the form of a novel, memoir, non-fiction narrative, or poem, these are the things I write about.
Although I have lived in Jackson Hole, Wyoming for over 25 years, I consider many places part of my home range: the fabulous mountains and ocean beaches of the Pacific Northwest, where I grew up, and special places I have encountered in my travels while living in the Northern Rockies.
I hope you enjoy my books.
Although I have lived in Jackson Hole, Wyoming for over 25 years, I consider many places part of my home range: the fabulous mountains and ocean beaches of the Pacific Northwest, where I grew up, and special places I have encountered in my travels while living in the Northern Rockies.
I hope you enjoy my books.
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Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews
January 23, 2015
A Hunger for High Country is a memoir with a mission. On one hand, Susan Marsh shares her romantic notion of the wild places of Montana and Wyoming with descriptive detail. On the other hand, she shows us her strength in her quest to find her place among the male-dominated hierarchy of the National Forest Service (NFS). In this hybrid memoir and scientific report, the author provides insight into the status of federal wilderness lands as our nation transitioned from managing public lands to preserving them. The shift that began in 1964 with the Wilderness Act, signed by Lyndon Baines Johnson, has been a slow one. An inherent conflict pits "amenity" resources like recreation, wilderness and scenic quality against the status quo of utilizing national forests for commodities like timber, minerals and grazing. The old-guard bureaucracy has held on tenaciously for five decades, regardless of new laws enacted.
A baby-boomer, Marsh grew up playing in the woods rather than playing inside with dolls. Even though she had few women role models, she chose a career in environmental conservation. Women in the 1980's were expected to "smile and be pleasant" to have any hope of a career with the National Forest Service. She persisted and wrote, "Yet the longer I stayed the more I loved the forest and it occurred to me that loyalty to a place, a relationship with the land, were more important that moving on to further one's career." If you are a reader who is interested in women who pioneered in fields that are not typically pursued by women, her story is unique.
If you are intrigued by the area she calls "The Park" and the area surrounding Yellowstone (like Bozeman, Montana or the Grand Tetons and Jackson, Wyoming), there are plenty of accounts of these places as she travels on foot and horseback, and she includes black and white photos from those trips.
But vast tracts of federal wilderness lands remain at risk even after 50 years of attempts to preserve them. An alarming trend is to turn over stewardship to states and private contractors who use up natural resources as "commodities."
Marsh's voice is both scientific and poetic as she blends both writing styles in her prose. "Quiet," she warns, "by its nature slips away unnoticed. But once it is gone, we notice." She reflects:
We owe a debt of gratitude to forest workers like Susan Marsh whose tireless efforts have resulted in victories of preserving wild lands that are "outstandingly remarkable."
by Martha Meacham
for Story Circle Book Reviews
reviewing books by, for, and about women
A baby-boomer, Marsh grew up playing in the woods rather than playing inside with dolls. Even though she had few women role models, she chose a career in environmental conservation. Women in the 1980's were expected to "smile and be pleasant" to have any hope of a career with the National Forest Service. She persisted and wrote, "Yet the longer I stayed the more I loved the forest and it occurred to me that loyalty to a place, a relationship with the land, were more important that moving on to further one's career." If you are a reader who is interested in women who pioneered in fields that are not typically pursued by women, her story is unique.
If you are intrigued by the area she calls "The Park" and the area surrounding Yellowstone (like Bozeman, Montana or the Grand Tetons and Jackson, Wyoming), there are plenty of accounts of these places as she travels on foot and horseback, and she includes black and white photos from those trips.
But vast tracts of federal wilderness lands remain at risk even after 50 years of attempts to preserve them. An alarming trend is to turn over stewardship to states and private contractors who use up natural resources as "commodities."
Marsh's voice is both scientific and poetic as she blends both writing styles in her prose. "Quiet," she warns, "by its nature slips away unnoticed. But once it is gone, we notice." She reflects:
We've grown to accept, or even expect, a theme park rather than the wild. Without authentic and individual experience, without the practiced intimacy needed to grow a personal relationship with real places, we cannot muster the visceral allegiance to them that is so urgently needed. I worry that the lack of intimate knowledge of the outdoors and its attendant quiet will make us simply forget about both. Silence will go the way of the Dodo, unnoticed and unmourned.
We owe a debt of gratitude to forest workers like Susan Marsh whose tireless efforts have resulted in victories of preserving wild lands that are "outstandingly remarkable."
by Martha Meacham
for Story Circle Book Reviews
reviewing books by, for, and about women
February 28, 2016
Like it or not, this was how the world worked in Yellowstone. However brutal the immediate aftermath, fire was less an agent of devastation than of renewal. (111)
This is a love story, in a way: a story of an unrequited love affair between the author and the wild.
I say 'unrequited' because I do not want to say 'doomed', but neither word is quite accurate. It is more that for all that Marsh loved working in national parks, loved being out in the wilderness, there's a sense of sadness throughout the book, of a push-pull relationship between federal agencies. Competing interests. Other people who loved the wild too, or loved what they could get from the wild, in ways that didn't mesh with Marsh's understanding of what a national park should be.
I didn't understand how deeply the district rangers wanted to run their own show. Answerable to some degree to the forest supervisor, often after a dressing down, they would continue their behavior in more subtle and inconspicuous ways. It was a cat and mouse game as old as the Forest Service, recorded by one of the first forest rangers who reported in his journal, "Saw the supervisor four times this year. He saw me twice." (74) That's one innocuous example; more damning are the agencies and private companies seeking to exploit the national parks, to strip out every possible natural resource and pack as many visitors in as possible, regardless of potential ecological damage.
I shelved this book after reading A Mile in Her Boots, which I'd forgotten until I recognised parts of a chapter in High Country. It's a mix of yearning for the outdoors and unpicking the mess of those competing interests and examining what led Marsh to this profession in the first place. She is also blunt about what it meant to be a woman in the Forest Service: by the time it was not such a boys' club and she didn't have to fight quite so hard to do her job, changes from on high were redefining her job anyway. I went back and forth on my enjoyment of the book—took me a while to get into it, and then I steamrolled ahead for a while, but the more ideological it got (although she's generally preaching to the choir with me, and although I think her points are important), the less it held my attention. So...something of a mixed bag, but worth the read.
Also worth noting: the book is full of (black-and-white) photos that serve as great armchair-traveller visual reminders of how stunning the wild can be. They put the front-cover photo to shame.
This is a love story, in a way: a story of an unrequited love affair between the author and the wild.
I say 'unrequited' because I do not want to say 'doomed', but neither word is quite accurate. It is more that for all that Marsh loved working in national parks, loved being out in the wilderness, there's a sense of sadness throughout the book, of a push-pull relationship between federal agencies. Competing interests. Other people who loved the wild too, or loved what they could get from the wild, in ways that didn't mesh with Marsh's understanding of what a national park should be.
I didn't understand how deeply the district rangers wanted to run their own show. Answerable to some degree to the forest supervisor, often after a dressing down, they would continue their behavior in more subtle and inconspicuous ways. It was a cat and mouse game as old as the Forest Service, recorded by one of the first forest rangers who reported in his journal, "Saw the supervisor four times this year. He saw me twice." (74) That's one innocuous example; more damning are the agencies and private companies seeking to exploit the national parks, to strip out every possible natural resource and pack as many visitors in as possible, regardless of potential ecological damage.
I shelved this book after reading A Mile in Her Boots, which I'd forgotten until I recognised parts of a chapter in High Country. It's a mix of yearning for the outdoors and unpicking the mess of those competing interests and examining what led Marsh to this profession in the first place. She is also blunt about what it meant to be a woman in the Forest Service: by the time it was not such a boys' club and she didn't have to fight quite so hard to do her job, changes from on high were redefining her job anyway. I went back and forth on my enjoyment of the book—took me a while to get into it, and then I steamrolled ahead for a while, but the more ideological it got (although she's generally preaching to the choir with me, and although I think her points are important), the less it held my attention. So...something of a mixed bag, but worth the read.
Also worth noting: the book is full of (black-and-white) photos that serve as great armchair-traveller visual reminders of how stunning the wild can be. They put the front-cover photo to shame.
November 1, 2025
a fascinating read! from the descriptions of the backcountry and its unique fauna to the detailed narrative of the realities of working for the forest service, I was invested. though the story itself jumps around a lot and, at times, doesn't seem to have a real goal, I saw myself in the author. she has a rare and true appreciation for the natural world; one I'd like to say I share! the memoir-like entries in this book captivated me, but overall left me wanting more from this. but again, not a bad read at all!
July 18, 2021
Definitely recommend for people who like to learn about: women's experiences in nontraditional fields; the outdoors; preservation of our public lands.
Also public employees who want to think,"Wow, the bureaucracy at my job COULD be worse!"
Also public employees who want to think,"Wow, the bureaucracy at my job COULD be worse!"
January 10, 2018
I loved this book for so many reasons: it is about a part of the world I love; the author's descriptions of the area are lovely; like the author, I recently chose to leave a toxic job to find something better in a place I didn't expect to be; I too grow weary of competing interests and people's inability to fully conceptualize the value of wild places.
Reading this was one of those serendipitous moments when the right book arrives at just the right time. (And a Christmas gift from one of my favorite people, nonetheless).
Reading this was one of those serendipitous moments when the right book arrives at just the right time. (And a Christmas gift from one of my favorite people, nonetheless).
May 16, 2023
wow! this book is brief, but has segments of breathtaking nature writing, clear-eyed personal history, and intriguing glimpses of the inner workings of the USFS. also, descriptions of sexism in government work that made me want to break something. this really gave me some context for sexist attitudes in the workplace that i sometimes get a sideways glimpse at—it's insane what women just a couple generations ago were going through, and how they still managed to keep their heads held high. susan marsh is one badass woman and a naturalist and public servant that i look up to.
May 12, 2025
Although this book discussed a past dream job of mine located in one of my favorite places in the country, this for some reason took me so long to get through. The descriptions of the outdoor places the author spent time at and the discussions of the many issues surrounding the National Forest Service were great, but did not move me as I thought they would. 10 years after this was published and the the forest service is still struggling in so many ways.
August 1, 2025
This book really jumped around all over the place. This was a very topical and brief narrative about the sexism I have also experienced in similar types of jobs. I was very disappointed both in the lack of detail about these experiences in the workplace and also the painstakingly brutally boring writings about plant types, locations, etc. This read as dry as a biological report from the field. This was a big miss for me, and not something I would recommend.
April 21, 2022
This book is mainly about the author's employment with the Forest Service in Montana and Wyoming. It tells a common story of a woman standing her ground working in what has been a male majority. But it also is about (and beautifully written) wilderness and what it means to spend time in it, care for it, worry about it and the struggle to keep it wild for future generations.
May 11, 2021
Susan Marsh’s memoir of her life as a US Forest Service professional in Montana and Wyoming was fascinating
November 17, 2018
I'm not entirely sure I'm going to finish this book. There are things I love; sweeping descriptions of sky lines, meadows, rocks, and rivers (including names, history, and data). I love how much the author cares, and how deeply she battles for what she thinks is right, against all the odds.
It shows its time though. Very white feminist of the 70's. Lots of "I wasn't like the other girls" and the implication that one had to be one of the boys to offer anything worthwhile. I just read a portion about these two men, a father and a son, who attempt to kidnap and assault a local woman. They're eventually (finally) caught and taken to prison. I was relieved. Justice. The author, however, expresses sympathy for the two men, over losing the mountains they loved so much, now spending their lives behind bars. Idk. I'd rather express sympathy for the local woman, a runner and Olympic hopeful, who loved the mountains and ram the trails every day, traumatized. Did she run the trails after this? Did she recover enough to return to her dreams? We never know. I think we should save our sympathy for her.
It shows its time though. Very white feminist of the 70's. Lots of "I wasn't like the other girls" and the implication that one had to be one of the boys to offer anything worthwhile. I just read a portion about these two men, a father and a son, who attempt to kidnap and assault a local woman. They're eventually (finally) caught and taken to prison. I was relieved. Justice. The author, however, expresses sympathy for the two men, over losing the mountains they loved so much, now spending their lives behind bars. Idk. I'd rather express sympathy for the local woman, a runner and Olympic hopeful, who loved the mountains and ram the trails every day, traumatized. Did she run the trails after this? Did she recover enough to return to her dreams? We never know. I think we should save our sympathy for her.
February 25, 2015
Marsh tells her story of a career in the US. Forest Service in Montana and Wyoming from the 1980's through her retirement in 2010. She was one of the first women to get promoted up the ranks. It was a painful journey. Her love of the wilderness keeps her committed and upright through it all.
Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews