My eyes are drawn up the tramlines of spring-sown wheat. Up the slope to the wood at the top of the rise, along a bit, then down again. For more than an hour I have walked and scanned these huge open fields for lumps that move. But now I see one. Binoculars are raised and there is Britain's fastest mammal, shambling along like a novice marathon runner 25 miles in. Hares are built for speed if not for idling. The leggy, shuffling animal halts and sits up on its haunches. Not meerkat-straight in a predator-alert pose, but leaning forwards in expectation.
My binoculars follow the direction of tilt, swinging left to find two more hares. The trio begin to weave around each other, closing in to sniff, drawing away. Each rises at intervals to adopt the peculiar sit-up-and-beg stance. Sometimes one bounds into the long grass at the edge of the field, then bursts out again. The pace seems to quicken. Two hares set off at a gallop, nose to bobbing tail. The chased female's upper body swivels round and she lands a rapid volley of blows on the head and shoulders of her ardent pursuer. Whether he is daunted by the boxing brush-off is hard to say, for in all the interplay I quickly lose track of who is who.
At last, one hare accelerates across the field into a sprint, legs scissoring together then stretching out, like the snap-spread movement of a racing greyhound. Only one animal can outrun the hare, with stamina if not with speed. Dogs have been out in the courting fields of the county this month, hunting in pairs. A hare coursing gang was discovered just a few miles from here. I hope, for the sake of these frisky animals, that the coursers' hounds are never unleashed at this spot. It is troubling to think people take pleasure from seeing these creatures torn apart, and all for the sake of a gambler's bet.
Source: http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/2011/mar/26/country-diary-bedfordshire-hares
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