The Story of a Hare

by J. C. Tregarthen

A faint glow suffused the low east when they reached Carn Boscawen, proceeded singly along ledge after ledge to its sea-washed face, clambered between the breaking waves up and up the wet rock and finally crept into crevices beyond reach of the spray.

For a while not a hair of them was to be seen, but the moment the sun rose they appeared at the mouths of the stronghold and lay with their long, gaunt bodies stretched to their full length to catch what little warmth the lurid orb vouchsafed.

In the light of day these night marauders looked the cruel, bloodthirsty bandits they were, the three whom the spell of Arctic cold had ermined presenting an even more fiendish aspect than the others. When too the sun passed behind the angry clouds so that carn and sea, shorn of the rays that gilded them, lay in deep shadow, the outlawed crew seemed to be in harmony with their savage surroundings and no unfit neighbours of the kite perched on the crag above.

By and by, suddenly as they had appeared, they withdrew, curled up on the rocky floor and fell asleep.

What a contrast the hare in his seat on the hill furnished to the carnivorous bandits of the carn! He looked as fearful as they looked bold, his long, quivering ears proclaimed his timidity no less plainly than the prominent eyes that overlooked the moor all the grey afternoon till they turned towards a storm far out at sea where lightning played in a black cloud, below which presently the blood-red sun went down.

And thus was ushered in a night of tragedy with hare and stoats for actors, moor and cliff for setting.

At dusk the hare left his couch and descended the hill to his pasture on Brea Farm. There he wandered from enclosure to enclosure picking up what little herbage he could find. It took him hours to get his fill.

Meanwhile the stoats who had quitted their fastness were heading for the moor, tempted by the presence of some wading birds which they had disturbed the previous night on their return journey. On the way they turned aside here and there in the hope of securing other prey, so that it was within an hour of midnight when they reached the purlieus of the waste, that looked pitch-black beneath the stormy sky.

At the spot where they struck the heath they were two miles from the linhay field which the hare presently left for his usual gallop. So wide however was its surface that nine times out of ten the pack might have hunted and the hare enjoyed his spin without either being aware of the other’s presence; twice it had so happened during the month now within an hour of its close; but the hare’s good fortune had temporarily forsaken him and his time come to stand before the pack.

Black though the night was, had the hare been as alert as usual, he could hardly have failed to discern at least the ghostly forms of the white members of the band in time to secure a long start and perhaps get clean away. Immunity from molestation in the moor explains the poor look-out he kept. His lack of vigilance was to cost him dear, inasmuch as he succeeded in arresting his steps only just in time to avoid running into the pack as it showed above the slight rise that for a few seconds had effectually concealed it from view.