Hare Whispering

I may have mentioned this before (!) but one of the biggest joys of living here in Damson Cottage is that we have hares for neighbours. We also have Don and Gill, who are not hares, but are very nice neighbours nonetheless, and Don is a whizz with his drain rods when the pipes to Vladimir Poo Tin (the septic tank) back up. They have only done this once since we’ve been here, but get Don to tell you the story about when it happened one Christmas Day back in the ‘80s and you’ll realise just what fun Salopians used to have with drains once they got a couple of bottles of Christmas whiskey inside them. I digress...the hares...

About three weeks ago, this little chap/lady started visiting the courtyard...

This is a still frame from one of the many videos I’ve taken since. It is the least blurry offering I can make because hares don’t half gallop around. For the last week I have seen the hare EVERY DAY! It is, as Julian and Sandy might say, becoming very bold. Sometimes it lollops around the courtyard, availing itself of the dandelions that are creeping up ‘twixt the paving slabs. (What can I say? It’s been too wet and rainy to do any weeding and now the hare is using them in its salade de l’herbe I can’t possibly deprive it, can I?) It sometimes sits under my car and then runs down the driveway, scooting under the hedge into Don and Gill’s front garden. When it does this I shout, ‘Don’t run into the road!’ and I close my eyes because I really DO NOT want to see squished hare. 

And sometimes it startles me by making sudden appearances in the middle garden and up the top garden by the fruit cage. For this reason, I shall now call the hare ‘Boo’ a) because it is a unisex name and b) because it is not a pun like hare salon/cut/dresser/drier etc etc blah blah blah feel free to add your own.

This morning I went to feed the chickens (Magnus is moulting - all his magnificent tail feathers are gone and he looks like a rugby ball with a head) and there was Boo, all casual, chewing a bit of grass, sniffing the wind, being ‘hare.’ I’ve taken to talking to Boo so she gets used to the sound of my voice. (I’m going to say Boo is a girl because I like the idea of hare babies in the garden and being a hare granny. Also, I am taking a stand against the patriarchal default setting that was the foundation of my upbringing.) She stayed where she was whilst I fed the chickens and reassured her that I was no danger to her and I was happy she was living in the garden and wasn’t she a beautiful thing? 

I got within about ten feet of her when suddenly she looked straight at me as if to say, ‘Oh my life! Where did you suddenly appear from?’ and she took off across the garden and disappeared under the lilac bushes where no doubt she will tell her hare family that there was this enormous human being who startled her and she is going to call it ‘Aaargh!’ or something similar. 

And I returned to the house with a huge smile on my face, and feeling blessed that my home brings such gifts with it.