THE FAERY YEAR 



gambols of a hare. Once a leveret came out of 

 the coppice to a bit of turf by the roadside, within 

 a few yards of me. It watched me closely at first, 

 but was not alarmed, though I moved slightly. 

 Presently, it came even nearer, frisked and capered, 

 now on hind legs, now on all fours, in an absurd 

 fashion. This lasted for more than a minute. 

 Suddenly the hare stopped, turned round, and ran 

 into the coppice. My hare was one of the mad 

 hares of the old saw, but the cause of the extraordi- 

 nary performance is obscure. I have a note in an 

 old natural history scrap-book about this hare dance, 

 and can recall the incident very clearly, and the 

 exact spot between our wood and common where it 

 occurred. 



The sport of birds at this time of year is a 

 daintier sight, however, than that of any other 

 animals. It seems to consist mainly of pretty 

 toying and trifling on the wing, not chases, 

 lightning-swift evasions and escapes, and all over 

 and clean forgotten in a trice. Linnets and finches 

 in their flights from field to field often engage in 

 this way ; so do rooks, which will utter as they 

 sport the most absurb ecstatic sounds. Sunshine on 

 autumn and winter days is champagne to rooks, and 

 they behave at times as if scarcely able to contain 

 themselves for pleasure. 



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