THE BROWN HARE. 



ONE of the marvels of wild nature is that 

 the hare survives not only survives, but, 

 if given any chance whatever, thrives and multi- 

 plies. It is one of the few wild-folk to whom 

 nature has given no secure sanctuary. The 

 common prey of all, pursued first by one, then 

 by another, only its marvellous speed and its 

 superb staying-power enable the hare to hold its 

 own against so many foes. The foxes and the 

 rabbits have their burrows, but the hare has no 

 such shelter ; he meets his foes on their own 

 ground, and beats them at their own game. He 

 is a superb running-machine, wise in the wisdom 

 of the trails, and withal a joy to behold. Away 

 he goes starting from a tuft at our feet, floating, 

 gliding, over the pasture, light as a thistle-seed, 

 keeping always to the hollows, seldom showing 

 himself on the skyline. And what lover of the 

 great outdoors has never felt the desire to follow 

 on in wild pursuit ? 



Truly he is the common sport of all, this 

 creature which is always game to the end living 

 a life of hair-breadth escapes till he can hold out 

 no longer against his foes. Particularly is this so 

 when the snow is on the ground ; for it is not the 

 hard, swift run that kills the hare ; it is the slow 

 ' tramp, tramp, tramp ' of a dogged pursuer on his 

 trail. In times of snow the shepherd and the 

 farm-man know that the hare is at their mercy, 

 and taking down the old gun from its shelf, the 

 hunter sallies forth. Here is the quarry's over-night 

 trail ; there is nothing to be done but follow that 



