The total length of the Hare is about twenty-four inches, to which the tail contributes three inches and two-thirds, and the head nearly four inches. The ears fall short of five inches. The weight averages about eight pounds. The tawny fur of the upper side is harsher than that of the Rabbit, which is due to a predominance of the strong hairs of medium length described under Rabbit. The shoulders, neck, and flanks are of a ruddier hue than the back, and a ruddy band crosses the loins. The sides of the face, and the outer surfaces of the limbs, incline to a yellow tint. The underside is pure white except at the breast and loins where the ruddy tint is continued from above. There is a profusion of black and white whiskers, of which the white are the longer and as much as three and a half inches in length. The tail, which is carried curved up over the back or straight behind, is black above and white on the sides and below. The large, prominent eyes have a horizontal pupil. As it is almost impossible to come upon a Hare asleep, it was formerly believed that they have no eyelids and are compelled, therefore, to sleep with their eyes open. This, of course, was an "inexactitude" comparable to the belief in the Mole's lack of eyes and ears. The prominence of the dark eyes of the Hare, and their situation well to the sides of the head give him a wide field of vision. As regards sexual distinctions, the Jack-Hare has a smaller body, shorter head and redder shoulders than the Doe.

Skeleton and Teeth of Brown Hare.

[View Larger Image Here.]

The Hare is not a burrowing animal, and does not seek refuge underground from his enemies, unless hard pressed, when he may enter a Rabbit-burrow temporarily. He relies upon his russet coat harmonising generally with his surroundings; and content with a slight depression among the grass known as a "form," he sits all day and surveys the landscape, ever ready to use his powerful limbs when his keen senses tell him there is danger near. At dusk he goes abroad to feed, and returns to the form at dawn. To break the continuity of scent, when he is leaving his form, and again when returning to it, he will suddenly turn at right angles to his former course and make a prodigious leap—fifteen feet or more—to the top of a bank, then take another long bound, perhaps into marshy ground where the scent will not lie, and repairing to the feeding-ground feel safe from being tracked by Fox or Polecat. He always adopts this leaping trick, also the plan of doubling on his track, which has been the admiration and vexation of the hunter from old times. Shakespeare has told at some length

"How he outruns the winds, and with what care

He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles:

The many musets through the which he goes