The hare will soon be three years old. She has survived three winters and three harvests, given birth at least three times to at least six leverets—and probably more—and she has survived one serious injury. She has already lived a long life for a hare in the wild. She leaps the garden wall into a world of dangers, some from other animals, others human-made. Every minute she chooses to spend in my vicinity feels precious and fleeting.
