He notices how Tom sniffs in fast bursts: it’s called odour sampling, and is exactly what scent-reliant mammals do. Yet his approach also produces insight into the lifestyles – and emotions – of animals. There are plenty of opportunities for squeamish giggles as Badger-Foster and his cub devour worms and lap “from a pool where leeches waved at our lips”. Peering over the boundary between himself and animals. What unfolds is not “an ecstatic utterance from a man-badger” but a slog, and Foster is constantly aware of falling short. He seeks to peer over it by exploring physiology and the way his quarry (he is a repentant country sportsman) use the landscape and share it with humans. In contrast, Foster believes there is always a boundary between himself and animals. He is also critical of the “quasi-shamanism” of JA Baker in his classic book The Peregrine, whereby Baker obsessively pursued some falcons until he suggested he had become one. But he rejects the idea of a modern-day shaman who sets up shop in a festival tepee and believes he can jump into the body of another being with a modest spot of meditation: any attempt to shed our human skin requires a lot of legwork, or “wingwork”. In seeking to unite human and animal worlds, Foster is aware he is following an ancient shamanistic tradition. A JCB-driving farmer friend helps them dig a sett in a hillside and they take up residence.

The worm-munching is because they constitute the bulk of a British badger’s diet, and Foster heads to Wales to begin life as a badger, accompanied by his eight-year-old son, Tom. From a distance, it resembles a stunt, but this elegantly written execution of the challenge is both sincere and self-mocking, flippant and deadly serious. Being a Beast has a terrific premise: Foster seeks to live as a badger, an otter, a fox, stag and swift, in order to better understand their lives and ours.

Foster Fox by William D. Writer