The Eton College hunt

by Anthony Crommelin Crossley

It seems that we have at least some four distinct varieties of the hare in Britain. First, there is the comparatively small hare of the Midlands, perhaps more valuable for its edible qualities than for sport; the marsh hare, better for sport than table; the large long leggy hare of the Downlands, and the blue mountain hare of Scotland, which turns nearly to quite white in winter.

Many years ago I wrote and published a work entitled Outdoor Life in England. At the present time it is out of print, though I have some idea of republishing it in an abridged and less expensive form. In it I dealt somewhat at length on the subject of hares, and it seems that I can hardly do better than quote some portions at the present time.

Hares love to squat on the hillsides out of the wind, and with their heads to it; east and west winds are those to which they least object, but, when a cold northerly or a rain-laden southerly wind prevails, they betake themselves off to the hedgerows and coverts. The barest looking ground is often selected by them; and a hole, scratched out on the leeward side of a molehill or a broken bank, affords comfortable shelter; and there, unless disturbed, they will sit throughout the day, asleep with wide-open eyes, or survey the world around them until it is time to caper off to supper in the turnips.

The ears of a hare are singularly adapted for hearing—more especially, sounds from behind them. The size and position of their eyes enable them to see around and behind them. Strange to say, however, it is easier to approach a hare from the front than from any other direction. This fact is, perhaps, due to the position of the eyes, which are situated somewhat on the side of the head, and backward rather than forward. In that delightful old book, Jesse’s Gleanings in Natural History—published nearly a hundred years ago—the author makes the following statement: “I have observed in coursing that, if a hare, when she is startled from her form, has her ears down, she is a weak runner; but, if one of her ears is carried erect, the hare generally beats the dogs.” I have never proved the truth of this assertion.

Unlike rabbits, hares are born with their eyes open, and are covered with hair. They seem to breed during the greater part of the year. As a rule, they produce two at a birth, though three are by no means uncommon. One naturalist mentions a case in which a hare gave birth to no fewer than seven young ones.

Years ago a labourer, whom I occasionally employed as a hedger, brought a live leveret to me, stating that it was one of three which had been born outside his garden, and informed me that whenever three were produced at a birth they invariably had a white star mark on their foreheads. I was somewhat sceptical as to the truth of this, but I have since ascertained that some naturalists assert this to be a fact. I kept the leveret until it had developed into a full grown hare, when I gave it away. It had grown very tame, and would sit out under the large wire run in front of its coop and play with the spaniels. These latter used to lie about in the sun close to the wire “creep,” the hare drumming at them with its fore feet. I have often seen a happy family composed of several spaniels round the cage, two cats sitting on the top, several white fantail pigeons, and, not infrequently, some pied wagtails fearlessly running about on the grass within a few yards.

We are accustomed to regard a hare as one of the most timid of all animals, and in a state of nature this is the case. When, however, they are kept in confinement, and have been tamed, they not only lose their shyness to a very great extent, but are at times capable of exhibiting an amount of ferocity hardly credible; and instances have been recorded of their having completely beaten off a dog. A relation of mine was well acquainted with a lady in one of our northern towns who kept two hares, which she had succeeded in taming, and which were very much attached to her. On her return home, after a prolonged absence of some three or four months, and visiting her pets, they had, apparently, not only lost their affection for her, but attacked her in so savage and determined a manner that she was forced to beat a retreat. I have every reason to believe in the absolute truth of this statement. Unlike rabbits hares prefer solitude. It is an almost unknown thing to put up two hares which have “seated” together. Even the young ones, as soon as they are weaned, appear to separate themselves, and will lie couched some fifty or sixty yards away from the doe. In hilly countries hares prefer to lie as near to the top of a hill as the weather permits of their doing. The reason for this is probably because the length of their hind legs enables them to tread uphill better than down. When, however, they are forced to take downhill, feeling their inability to descend in a straight line, they invariably travel in an oblique direction. If pressed hard down a very steep incline, they are apt, at times, to turn head over heels.

It is unusual to find hares “seated” under a hedgerow, except in stormy weather, when no other protection is available. As a rule, they prefer to make their “forms” in the centre of a field, probably for greater security. In mild, drizzly weather they generally move up to the higher grounds, or seek the shelter of a gorse bush.