Last year I discovered a book called Brendon Chase, written by an author who used the pseudonym, B.B, real name Denys Watkins-Pitchford. B.B. had a deep love and knowledge of nature and forest lore. But, and this may seem like a contradiction nowadays, he was also a hunter. He shot animals but not for pleasure or so-called sport, but for food and pelts. This love and knowledge of nature and hunting comes out in this novel. Written ostensibly for children, it is one of those timeless classics, like The Wind in the Willows and Swallows and Amazons, that adults can enjoy.
The book was published in 1944 but the action was set in an unspecified time, before the war, probably in the 1920s. Three brothers of school age run away from their humdrum life split between their aunt and boarding school, to live as outlaws in a large forest called Brendon Chase, a few miles away, while their parents are away in India. Initially relying on some stores of food they brought from the house and a gun with which to shoot animals for food, they eventually run out of their stores of food and have to survive entirely on the harvest of the forest.
They become hunter-gatherers. They live by fishing, shooting and trapping rabbits and birds and even an escaped pig, foraging and gathering honey from wild bees. They learn to butcher, skin and preserve meat. They learn to make clothes out of skins. They come to love the forest on which they depend. But they know it can't last forever and that eventually they will have to return to civilisation and face the music. They spend about eight months in the forest.
The adults in the story play a minor role and mostly of a comic nature, especially the bumbling policeman who loses his trousers while taking a dip in a pond. But the boys become friends with a woodsman, a charcoal burner known as Smokoe, who lives in a shack in the forest, who grows and hunts all his own food. Apart from Smokoe and a sympathetic doctor, the adults represent boring civilisation, almost totally divorced from nature, and the boys represent the wild. Unlike the boys in Lord of the Flies, they do not revert to savagery but are very responsible, and mostly kill only to feed and clothe themselves.
This is a marvellous novel about wildlife and humans living a wild life in nature, but written as it was in the 1940s, many modern readers will dislike the scenes in which birds' nests are raided for eggs, or when butterflies are hunted or an animal is skinned. But in that respect it is a book of its time before the age of animal rights and environmentalism. Reading books from another age can often challenge our more enlightened attitudes, for example on racial stereotypes, although in this book there are barely any references to race, the main challenges being on the hunting issue. For all this, it is an enjoyable book and I loved the artwork, produced by the author himself, and for this reason, it is a book to keep on one's shelf long after one has read it.