Chloe Dalton: I felt the pressure drop and realized I had been living at 100 miles per hour
Writer, publishes 'Little Rabbit'
BarcelonaWhen the British Chloe Dalton moved into a renovated old barn in the English countryside during the pandemic, she didn't know her life was about to take a turn. While juggling to continue her work as a political advisor in international crisis management, Dalton came across a helpless leveret cub and took it home. An unusual and almost magical bond was born there between her and the animal, which against all odds made its lair in the barn. From that experience, Dalton has written Llebretó (Periscopi / Asteroide, 2026), a dazzling book that invites you to pause life and enjoy nature. In Catalan, it has been translated by Ricard Gil.
At what point did you decide to turn that experience into a book?
— During the pandemic, I had video conference meetings and didn't tell anyone I was looking after a bunny, because it didn't fit the image I had created for myself. I also didn't think the experience would last so long. But days turned into weeks and months, and I started sending friends and family short videos of the animal, like when it drummed its paws on the cushions. I noticed people loved it, that they were fascinated by it. Then the rabbit gave birth to the kits at home. It was inconceivable. The wildest animal chose to give birth in a human home and then left the young in the room where I would write the book. At this point, I thought: “This extraordinary experience has been gifted to me. Perhaps I have a responsibility and should share it with others”.
He tells an honest story, explaining that he relates to the animal out of ignorance. Was it a trial-and-error process?
— I didn't know what I was doing and I made some mistakes with the rabbit. For example, I didn't realize they are nocturnal animals. When she started sleeping under my bed, I got worried. I thought she was eating too much, that she was becoming domesticated. I would pick her up and take her outside. She would clean her paws, look at me, walk past me, go upstairs, and return to bed. The animal simply tolerated all my attempts to figure out how to take care of her.
Write that living with the hare transformed her. How was this change?
— The hare revealed things about myself that I didn't know. Instinctively, I felt I shouldn't put her in a cage or give her a name, because that would be to underestimate her. As a child, I had pets and they all had names. With the hare it was different. She taught me how important freedom is, the act of giving other people space to be who they need to be. 200 years ago I couldn't have had this experience. I would have been accused of being a witch living with a hare and, evidently, I wouldn't have been able to write a book. The hare has also taught me the power of silence, of observing nature and finding changes where you don't expect them.
How would you describe the clash between life with the hare and your work?
— For many years I worked as an advisor to the British Foreign Minister. I traveled twice a week. I woke up at four in the morning, I had to be informed about what had happened in the world and try to follow the government's long-term policies. I was used to living with adrenaline and captivated by international events. My gaze was always focused outward, never on my immediate surroundings. The contrast with the hare was enormous, because it is an animal that lives right on a piece of land and returns to the same place every day to sleep. Suddenly, I started eliminating things to create a suitable environment for it. I stopped listening to the news, I didn't turn on the lights at night, I stopped wearing perfume. Then I felt my pressure drop and I realized that I had been living at 100 miles per hour.
The book explains how a combine harvester has killed several hares in a nearby field to exemplify the contradiction between wanting to protect animals and not having the tools to do so. Is this an impossible goal?
— I soon realized that I couldn't even protect my hare. She injured a leg and was very vulnerable to predators, and still she left the garden every day and jumped over the wall. Part of the beauty of this experience is that it could have ended at any moment. Seeing all those hares and also the carcass of a kestrel, I became aware of the fragility of animals and, at the same time, of the fact that even without human intervention, their lives are very short. But I didn't want to be the city dweller who goes to the countryside and tells the peasants how they should work. With the war in Ukraine and the conflict in the Strait of Hormuz, it has become evident that we need food security. I'm not going to pretend that we are not in a difficult moment, but progress is not linear. My experience working in politics has made me an optimistic person. I've seen that if you make an effort, you can achieve things.
Combines experiences with literary and historical references about hares. How did you manage not to write an encyclopedic book?
— For two years I was reading about hares simply out of curiosity. From there I tried to write in the simplest, most direct, accessible, and rigorous way. I wanted to make the animal shine, not to pour all the facts or my life into the pages. I love it when people tell me that before reading the book they thought it wasn't for them. I've tried to make it easy to get into, based on the idea that we think we know a lot about hares, but in reality, we know practically nothing. Now that it seems everything has already been done and written, well, look, a discovery: hares are much more beautiful and interesting than you could have imagined.
