“The Vanishing Kind” is definitely the kind of book that you might want to read in one sitting to find out how the enthralling action ends, yet I found myself doing the opposite. Alice Henderson creates characters so likable, a plot so gripping, and a setting so idyllic, that I just didn’t want it to end. I kept putting off finishing the book because I wanted to stay with main character Alex Carter in the New Mexico desert setting just a bit longer.

There are so many things to like about the books in the Alex Carter series, it’s difficult to know where to begin. One of the magical parts of each book is the manner in which Henderson takes us to the places where the novels are set. In the past, we’ve visited the Arctic and the Rocky Mountains, and now we see the New Mexico desert through Henderson’s capable eyes as she describes the desert scenes in a manner both detailed and lyrical. We picture ourselves in the Gila National Forest as we read about “towering reddish columns of petrified ash” rising from the desert floor, and springs that “trickled from crevices in rocks, creating their own little ecosystems of delicate green maidenhair ferns and mosses.” We listen to the calls of birds, the rushing of the Mogollon River, and the stomping of mule deer; and, of course, we can visualize the sleek beauty of the jaguar, that elusive creature who is the focus of this novel.

One of the admirable aspects of Henderson’s writing is her ability to inform us while simultaneously engrossing us in a gripping plot. For example, we learn about why some cats can purr and others can only roar. Small cats purr but big cats can’t. They roar. It all depends on their hyoid bone, and it’s fascinating. Alex Carter, a biologist, travels to remote locations for a nonprofit organization, the Land Trust for Wildlife Conservation. They ask her to set up remote cameras, collar wild animals, and check on their habitat. In this novel, they have land in New Mexico that they think is suitable for jaguar habitation and want to see if there are any jaguars on the land.

Once Alex is in the sanctuary, living there, meeting the people in the closest tiny town as well as some ranching neighbors, she realizes that there is a group of white supremacists who are targeting anyone who doesn’t look like them. They also target women, who they believe should not be “taking men’s jobs” like ranching and doing what Alex is doing. They’ve fire-bombed an art festival in the small-but-charming town and destroyed many shops owned by families with Hispanic names. They’ve threatened Alex. The police seem singularly inept in identifying the group.

One of the facts of Alex’s life is that she feels safer in the wilderness than she does in “civilization.” Cities have predators of the two-legged variety, and being in the wild, so long as you are respectful of the predators who make their homes there, is much safer through Alex’s perspective. That being said, the danger in the story is not from Alex’s interactions with the jaguar (yes, there is one here!), but rather with the human variety of predator, a much more dangerous and venal type of adversary.

The narrative intersperses Alex’s journey through the wilderness, setting cameras, looking for signs of a jaguar’s presence, appreciating the native beauty around her, and breathing in the clean desert air, with the tension and incipient violence that results from the threats by the white supremacists. Threats to Alex’s life. There is also the local millionaire, who financed an archeological dig on his property, looking for ancient artifacts stolen by a Spanish conquistador. We know the artifacts will be important because of the prologue, but we don’t quite know how. The workers at the dig also run afoul of the white supremacist group—they aren’t white enough.

Henderson’s ability to walk the tightrope between narrating the action and sharing information is brilliant. We care about Alex and want her to succeed. We hate those who threaten not only her safety, but the safety of others and the animals whose habitats are being destroyed.

Be prepared to get angry. I hadn’t realized that the REAL ID Act, passed in 2005, allowed DHS (Department of Homeland Security) to bypass all federal, state, and local environmental laws when constructing border walls. Laws including the Endangered Species Act, the Antiquities Act, the Clean Water Act, the Clean Air Act, the National Environmental Policy Act, and the National Wildlife Refuge System Improvement Act can all be ignored to build a wall. No environmental assessments are created and used to reduce damage to wildlife and migration. As Henderson (through Alex Carter) points out, there are ways to protect the border without building a physical wall that prevents animals, like the jaguar but also many other species, from migrating. Without the ability to move from place to place, genetic diversity is weakened and species harmed.

One shocking truth that Henderson shares is that Wildlife Services, a branch of the USDA (United States Department of Agriculture), an agency that we would think is dedicated to saving wildlife, is actually responsible for killing tremendous numbers of wild animals. In one year alone, the Wildlife Services killed over 403,000 native animals, including black bears, gray wolves, bobcats, coyotes, deer, marmots, prairie dogs, and mourning doves. 600 bobcats killed. 64,000 coyotes killed. Devastating.

It’s extremely frustrating to read about the failure of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to protect critically endangered animals. For example, we learn jaguars weren’t listed as endangered until 1997, and then it took the Wildlife Services another seventeen years to designate critical habitat, and only after being sued by conservation groups. Jaguars are critically endangered, and their plight is only getting worse. Alice Henderson is a champion for wildlife, and reading her novels encourages readers to see the beauty of nature, as well as the imperative necessity for action to relieve the status quo dangers which are causing the disappearance of our native habitats. She told me, “I feel very strongly about shedding light on the plight of different species, and I do hope the books are making a difference. Wildlife needs our help!”

Books like “The Vanishing Kind” and the others in this series do have the power to not only inform people, but to change minds about the importance of our wild lands and of keeping our national parks for the animals, not for beef ranchers and businessmen. Read it and enjoy it for the plot and the characters and the wonderful writing, share it because of its importance and the environmental message it carries.

This review was first posted on Bookreporter.com.