PART II.CHAPTER I.HARES.By Major Arthur T. Fisher.
By Major Arthur T. Fisher.
It would be indeed regrettable if our British hare were exterminated; yet, some thirty years ago, such seemed by no means impossible, for our stock was so rapidly diminishing that it was with difficulty that the Committee of some coursing meetings could make their arrangements. But since that time normal conditions have returned, and hares are to-day apparently as abundant as before the passing of the Ground Game Act.
Hares afford a large amount of sport, to say nothing of their value as most excellent food. To the lovers of Natural History their habits and ways are full of interest. For several years my home was situated at the foot of the Wiltshire Downs, where I rented a long strip of shooting, some two or three miles in length, and so had ample opportunity afforded me of studying their habits.
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 entitledOutdoor Life in England. At the present time it is out ofprint, 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’sGleanings 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.
As everyone is aware, a hare is capable of giving a pack of hounds infinitely more trouble to kill than a fox. It is the exception for a hare to run straight away from hounds for any great distance, though occasionally it will take a line as straight as that of a fox. The account of a run with some harriers in one of our Eastern Counties, in which, after affording a rattling gallop, the hare took out to sea in the Wash, was recorded in theField. The pack referred to was kept by a relation of mine. For those who are able to appreciate the hunting and working of hounds, hare-hunting affords greater opportunities for witnessing the intricate difficulties of hunting by scent than any similar description of sport. The man who is able to hunt harriers well and successfully should be able to account for a fox, although the tactics of the two animals pursued are different; for, whereas a forward cast will generally succeed in hitting off the line of a fox when hounds are at fault, nine times out of ten it is on one of the backward casts that the true line of a hare will be found. It may well be said that the direction a lost hare has taken will most surely be the one which appears to be the least likely. It is the constant “doubling” which renders hare-hunting so difficult. The best pack of harriers I ever saw at work was one belonging to a Mr. Jeffreys. In colour they were black and tan, owing to a strong infusion of the blood-hound cross. These hounds, which were notorious, were exceedingly well handled by their owner, who contrived to account for an incredible number of hares in the course of the season. They were somewhat light-limbed, very speedy, and possessed the most wondrous noses. No matter what the weather or the country might be, they could pick up a scent where other hounds could not own a yard, and even in the driest road or fallow in March.
Hare-shooting is but poor sport, and to my view, even under the best circumstances, vastly inferior to good rabbit shooting. To miss a hare within easy distance in the open is inexcusable, and to shoot at one at a doubtful range still more so.
I am very much inclined to the opinion that, unless coursed or hunted, a hare is by no means deserving of the high repute in which it is held for table purposes, and there is, moreover, comparatively little of its flesh worth eating. The followingmethod of preparing a hare for table may possibly be found useful. After skinning the animal, immerse it in vinegar and water with a few juniper berries for twelve or even twenty-four hours previous to roasting. By this means it will be found little, if at all, inferior to a coursed or hunted hare.
I refer my readers to theSatiresof Horace (II. 4):
“Si vespertinus subito te oppresserit hospes,Ne gallina malum responset dura palato,Doctus eris vivam mixto mersare Falerno;Hoc teneram faciet.”
“Si vespertinus subito te oppresserit hospes,Ne gallina malum responset dura palato,Doctus eris vivam mixto mersare Falerno;Hoc teneram faciet.”
“Si vespertinus subito te oppresserit hospes,Ne gallina malum responset dura palato,Doctus eris vivam mixto mersare Falerno;Hoc teneram faciet.”
“Si vespertinus subito te oppresserit hospes,
Ne gallina malum responset dura palato,
Doctus eris vivam mixto mersare Falerno;
Hoc teneram faciet.”
Hare skins are useful for a variety of purposes. The country people make them into waistcoats—chest preservers; the fur from the face and ears forms an admirable body, either natural or dyed, for certain trout flies such as the “Rough Olive Dun,” “Blue Dun,” “Sedge Flies,” etc.
The hind feet are most useful for oiling guns and such like articles. They were—in former days—much used by those ladies who preferred to supply the complexion which they lacked by a use of the rouge pot; and the bones of the hind legs, when scraped and polished, are capable of being converted into very handsome cigarette holders. So, all things considered, a hare may be said to be a most useful animal.
Besides hunting, coursing, or shooting, various illegitimate methods are employed in capturing hares, most commonly that known as “wiring,” to my mind detestable in every sense of the word. A person well skilled in setting a hare wire can make pretty certain of success. It is, however, a practice usually confined to the poaching fraternity, who are far more skilful in the use of a wire than keepers. An experienced eye can very readily detect the difference between a poacher’s and a keeper’s wire, whether it is set for hares or rabbits. An old hand can utilise a bramble with nearly as certain success as a wire, and with far less fear of detection, always provided that there happens to be a bramble growing near enough to the run of a hare for the purpose. It is somewhat difficult to explain, without the aid of an illustration, the difference between a wire set by a keeper and that set by a poacher; but, if the two are compared, the difference is very perceptible. Keepers twist their wires far too much as a general rule, and, although they present a very much neater appearance, they are not nearly so destructive; their wires, too, are generally hand-twisted. A skilful poacher never twists his wire by hand, and is careful not to touch the wire more than he can help during its manufacture,using for the purpose of twisting the strands a weight which is attached to each separate one, and by moving which the necessary degree of twist is imparted, ever taking care to make the twist as slight as possible. A poacher is well aware of the value of an old wire, always provided it is sound and good, preferring it to a new one. The general effect of such a wire when set appears clumsy to an inexperienced eye, but a closer inspection will show the care and skill with which it has been laid. Keepers, as a rule, set wires to catch rabbits or hares for their employers, whereas poachers do so for themselves. On one occasion, when shooting with a friend, we took up some thirty or forty rabbit wires which had been set by a poacher; and the next day my friend found a basket containing upwards of forty more, all of which he gave to an old man in his employ. Curiously enough, we afterwards discovered that these wires had been set by the grandson of the man to whom they were given, who, of course, was not a little pleased to have his property restored to him.
Another method of taking hares, adopted by poachers and the lower class of gipsies, is to place a net across a gateway through which hares are known to pass, and then to send a trained lurcher into the adjoining fields to beat up the hare. Calling hares by means of a hare-call, and then suddenly shooting them or suddenly slipping a lurcher on to them, is a plan occasionally pursued. An ordinary tobacco pipe, provided it has a mouthpiece, makes an excellent call-pipe. The call is produced by pressing the mouthpiece against the lips, which must be nearly closed, sucking in the air, placing the ball of the thumb on the bowl of the pipe, and again quickly removing it. It is easy to produce the required sound with a very little practice.
The following may interest the reader. On the afternoon of Easter Day 1895, I was walking in the water-meadows in front of my house in company with my wife and a friend who had two well-broken retrievers with him. My wife left us, returning to the house by a bridge which used to span the river intervening between my house and the meadows, and which is at that point some forty or fifty yards in width, the current being at the time strong and deep. For some days previously I had noticed a hare in the meadow, and on this occasion she jumped up some two hundred yards from where we were standing in the centre of the field, raced round the meadow, and eventually made straight for the river. The dogs had remained perfectly steady at heel, though fully aware of what was happening. Without the slightest hesitation she plunged boldly out into the stream,swam rapidly across, and scampered up the bank, where, seeing my wife, who had been watching the performance, she turned aside and bolted away through the garden. It was strange that she should have elected to swim so broad a river in preference to making her escape by either of the two sides of the field which lay open to her, more especially since she had not been chased or unduly disturbed in any way. The meadow is a very large one, bounded on one side by the river in question, and on another by a small tributary stream. The animal did not appear particularly frightened either before or after her voyage. Perhaps she was suffering from the insanity to which March hares are proverbially supposed to be addicted. It was, certainly, a somewhat eccentric and unaccountable performance.
In the summer of 1915—when fishing—a hare started up from the opposite side of the river, and swam across not very many yards from where I was, and, in that instance also, it had not been scared or startled in any way, and there was nothing else in the field she started from but an old piebald pony placidly feeding at some distance away. What made it a still more curious performance was that I had a small terrier with me which was nosing about the bank on my side of the river, and the hare passed only a few yards above him.