Introduction to: The Path of the Hare.

Introduction to: The Path of the Hare, a poetic work by P.J.Allsop.

The brown hare is my totem animal. It is difficult to understand why I chose this particular creature to become associated with, but it appears somehow I was drawn to it, fascinated by its existence. Since childhood the sight of a hare darting across a field or a heath has sent a strange and mysterious shiver down my spine.
Above my home, on the side of the moor, the edge is dominated by a sweep of scattered woodland that marches like a troop of weary ancient warriors across the landscape. The gnarled beech, oak and Scots pine lean away from the open moor and boggy terrain, contorted by the ravages of fierce autumn and winter winds. Their trunks are generally lean and thin and their branches twisted and spindly like something from an Arthur Rackham painting. There is no undercover, just rough grass and sedge. There are deep dips and hollows and a beautiful gritstone drystone wall, with specially constructed small ‘creep’ or ‘cripple’ holes for game to pass through. The wall built long ago with patient skill is now tumbled down in places but still acts as a boundary actively dividing the open moor from the wood.
In early spring and summer the wood and surrounding moorland are home to a variety of hardy birds including curlews, a dwindling number of lapwings, meadow pipits, skylark, Mistle thrush, tribes of common finches and tits and on occasion a fine redstart. In the rough grass or sedge beneath the trees a woodcock may be hidden in silent solitude blending into the sparse cover like a chameleon. On warm evenings or the dawn of the day it may be seen roding on owl-like wings above its territory. During the autumn and winter month’s boisterous brambling, fieldfares and redwings from the harsh north seek sanctuary among the trees. Starlings and wood pigeons too often gather in flocks smothering certain trees like strange winter fruit.
This is the land of the raven and its kin, the kestrel, the merlin and the buzzard: it is also the path of the hare.
There are of course other places to watch hares round the area, they might even be more abundant there, but somehow to see hares on what I regard as my own patch is a significant almost spiritual, symbolic happening. I, like the Pagan Celts, still view the brown hare as a sacred animal of spiritual significance. This view was held by Caesar and backed up by the discovery of a strip of thin sheet bronze from a Roman well near Winterbourne Kingston, Dorset, with the outline of a hare punched on it.
Caesar maintains that the ancient British did not consume the flesh of the hare deeming it a valuable animal for divination: the direction that a hare was seen to run could reveal important omens that could possibly alter the course of events. Indeed he tells us that Boadicea released a hare before leading her army into battle against the Romans. Some modern day pagans, particularly goddess centred, honour the little known earth-goddess Andraste, who according to the annals of Roman history was associated with the hare, and it was to this deity that Boadicea released the hare. This goddess is also linked with fertility and the Spring Equinox, when day and night meet on equal terms. At this time the hare maybe seen to frolic in the fields, the Jack hares jumping and boxing and it is perhaps fitting to view the hare with the coming of new spring growth, a time when Jack-in-the Green begins to stretch his limbs.
It is thought that the brown hare has roamed our land since the Bronze Age, arriving in modern day Europe too late to cross by the land bridge but somehow finding its way to our misty shores. It certainly out-dates the rabbit, that was probably first brought to England by the Normans and reared in manmade warrens as a source of food. The brown hare is larger than its indigenous relative the mountain hare and does not change its coat to white during the winter. The mountain hare is a native of the Scottish mountains but isolated colonies are to found in the Peak District if you know where to look.
To regard a hare in silhouette up on the edge, is to see a primeval looking animal that is both constantly alert, intelligent and in many ways strangely noble. Its large eyes appear to miss nothing but it relies also on sense of smell and its acute hearing. It is a solitary creature by day becoming more sociable after sunset.
The brown hare is a creature of habit. It has favourite paths to follow which pass through certain exits, holes in hedges, gates or gaps in a wall, maybe a ‘creep’ or ‘cripple’ hole. Poachers may try to take advantage of this situation by ‘netting’ familiar exits or gates. If the hare is lucky enough to escape this tactic, it will be wary in the future and never use those exits again. In the wood I have found paths, given away by the soft ground, which lead to their favourite feeding grounds. To explore the Edge after a fall of snow is very exciting as animal tracks lead this way and that through the trees. True to form a procession of tracks can usually be found tracing the hares’ path down to the rough pasture.
Jack hares have nothing to do with the rearing of the leverets, leaving this job to the doe. The doe is a bold mother and has been known to defend her young against weasels and stoats, kicking out at the pernicious hunters with her powerful hind feet. The leverets are born above ground fully furred with their eyes wide open. They quickly move off a safe distance to a form, a place where they can remain hidden in a thick tussock of grass or a stand of sedge. The doe will visit them, usually by night or when safety allows, to nurse them. In this way at least one of them may survive.
I believe the mainly solitary life of the hare enhances its sense of mystery: a lone nocturnal wanderer loping through the shadows beneath the cold luminosity of a pallid moon. In folklore the tale is told that the hare sometimes stares up at the moon all night as a labour of love. For this kind deed the moon goddess grants the hare fertility. The thought of a hare mesmerised by the light of a full moon is an intriguing one and invokes fantastic visions, for in many parts of the country the brown hare has acquired a sinister reputation as an animal of ill-omen or as a witches familiar. Its habit of sitting upright and its human-type cry may have helped to enhance this notion, either way it certainly adds the animals sense of mystery.
It said by some pagans that if you see a hare you should be cautious. I believe that if you see a hare you should think yourself privileged.