Raising Hare: A Memoir

by Chloe Dalton

How glad I am now that I did not leave for the city the moment it became possible. I am grateful for every additional day that I gazed out of the window. If I had gone, I would not have seen the leverets born. I would not have built the relationships I formed around the hare, with other people and with this patch of land, and felt this unexpected, uncomplicated joy, and learnt not to tamp down the emotions it generates in me. I would not have looked at my life from a different perspective, and considered both what more I might be and the things I might not need. Whereas before I sought out exceptional experiences and set myself against the crowd, I take comfort in the fact that this process of self-discovery has been felt by millions before me, and that there is nothing original in finding consolation and inspiration in nature. It is there for all of us, perhaps our one true shared heritage and source of hope for regeneration in our own, hard-pressed lives. As we jostle for space on this planet, for position and place and name, and agonise about missteps and paths lost, and feel the fragility of our hopes and all that we hold dear, I think of the hare, stepping lightly on the earth, taking cover if the wind blows. We are not so dissimilar. If we do not achieve all upon which we have set our hearts, or are beaten back by headwinds stronger than our desires, we too can lay up a while, watch the glitter on the grass, and renew our strength.