I love hares – but the wee ones are a pain
HARVEST is finally getting into full swing – and, given some dry weather, most of the grain fields around the country are likely to be in the combine’s sights in the coming weeks.
We’ve been getting some cut ourselves but some of the grain yields seem to be back a bit on the lighter, earlier land. They’re not disastrously poor, and I’m reliably informed that the amount of grain coming off is pretty close to the five-year average.
It’s just that compared to the thumping yields they’ve produced over the last two years, and what’s now coming off the later, heavier land, things seem a bit on the meagre side.
However, although the weather seems to have conspired to cut the amount of grain back a bit, it seems to be suiting the wildlife.
In one particular field of wheat, the yield of brown hares was way above normal.
It always gives me a lift to see the hares running about the fields. They always become more visible after harvest because they’re not hidden by the long straws of the crops.
But they made cutting this field a nightmare as the leverets, as baby hares are known, kept hopping into the way of the combine.
Hares are handsome creatures displaying grace, elegance and big-eyed beauty, not to mention the impressive bursts of speed depicted in stories such as The Tortoise And The Hare.
But the leverets are like cartoon versions of their parents – big-eyed, long-whiskered and with the softest fur you’ve ever felt, along with a tendency towards cute clumsiness.
While pairs of parent hares ran up and down the stubble of the crop, dashing around at top speed again without being hindered by the ripening grain, the poor wee ones kept heading back into the crop with their amusing lolloping scuttle after the combine had passed.
So we had to keep our eyes peeled for them as we came up on the next round – looking for the tiny movements of the grain stalks where the creatures were pushing through the crop.
Several times we had to hop off and encourage them to head out into the safety of the already-cut stubble – or even lift them out and plonk them in the safety of a nearby grassy verge.
I’m just glad there’s no resident population of tortoises!