Chloe and the Hare

And I put on my boots and I went out and I couldn't see any sight of the man or the dog.

But within, I don't know, 200 meters, I stumbled across a small animal lying out in the open in the middle of this track that's used by farm vehicles.

And I looked at it from a distance and I knew immediately that I was looking at a baby hare.

You don't often see these animals.

They're so secretive.

And normally you only ever see a hare if it's running away from you.

So you see it for a sort of a few seconds running off in the distance.

And this was a perhaps one or two day old hare.

It was smaller than the palm of my hand.

It had jet black eyes, this beautiful thick

coat.

It didn't seem to be injured.

Chloe wondered if it had been separated from its mother.

I sort of assumed that

this little animal had perhaps been chased by the dog I'd heard or picked up and carried in its mouth.

That can sometimes happen.

But I just hoped that if I left it in peace, there would be a happy ending and its mother would come back for it.

But I went back four hours or so later, not really expecting to see it, but it was lying in exactly the same place in a very exposed position without any cover and it hadn't moved at all.

Chloe watched the baby hare, or leveret, trying to decide what to do.

It had these incredibly

long, slender front paws, almost, you know, no thicker than a pencil, very fragile looking, these long, long ears, already really big in proportion to the body, so that even from its first hours, a little hare can hear out, listen out for danger.

And then it had the makings of a hare's really big, long back paws.

It wasn't a sort of helpless little animal.

Obviously, it was beautiful and appealing in the way that young creatures are.

But there was something about it that was it was the wildest animal I'd ever seen in every detail in the way that it was perfectly equipped

And I put on my boots and I went out and I couldn't see any sight of the man or the dog.

But within, I don't know, 200 meters, I stumbled across a small animal lying out in the open in the middle of this track that's used by farm vehicles.

And I looked at it from a distance and I knew immediately that I was looking at a baby hare.

You don't often see these animals.

They're so secretive.

And normally you only ever see a hare if it's running away from you.

So you see it for a sort of a few seconds running off in the distance.

And this was a perhaps one or two day old hare.

It was smaller than the palm of my hand.

It had jet black eyes, this beautiful thick

coat.

It didn't seem to be injured.

Chloe wondered if it had been separated from its mother.

I sort of assumed that

this little animal had perhaps been chased by the dog I'd heard or picked up and carried in its mouth.

That can sometimes happen.

But I just hoped that if I left it in peace, there would be a happy ending and its mother would come back for it.

But I went back four hours or so later, not really expecting to see it, but it was lying in exactly the same place in a very exposed position without any cover and it hadn't moved at all.

Chloe watched the baby hare, or leveret, trying to decide what to do.

It had these incredibly

long, slender front paws, almost, you know, no thicker than a pencil, very fragile looking, these long, long ears, already really big in proportion to the body, so that even from its first hours, a little hare can hear out, listen out for danger.

And then it had the makings of a hare's really big, long back paws.

It wasn't a sort of helpless little animal.

Obviously, it was beautiful and appealing in the way that young creatures are.

But there was something about it that was it was the wildest animal I'd ever seen in every detail in the way that it was perfectly equipped