JACK
The first time we met was at dusk on a warm Summer
evening. He was making his nightly patrol , I was watching the sunset. That we had not met before was surprising, for, as
I came to know over the many months to come, Jack's evening constitutional was as predictable as the coming of nightfall.
We were both taken by surprise that first dusk.
He,with all the caution of any survival concious hare, became a statue, assessing me. When satisfied I was not a threat, he
continued on his way. A route that took him from a scud in the field, along the abandoned railway track, and through the Goods
Yard onto the quiet village lane. We met as he came past the house and I watched him cut along the side of the stallion's
paddock and disappear in the direction of the sea dyke.
As the days progressed we saw each other regularly.
You could set a watch he was so prompt, but some evenings he declined an assignation. The Summer passed and as we grew less
cautious of each other, I ventured to meet him closer to his starting point. I let him dictate the speed at which our relationship
grew, though even as our first Autumn approached he made it abundantly clear that five yards was close enough thankyou. However
the priviledge of this allowance was not lost on me. He was wild and free, he was in control. He was a hare wise in the ways
of the vagueries of the human animal. I could only follow him in besotted admiration.
Autumn came with a harsh suddeness that year.
The frosts were iron hard by the beginning of October .... it was going to be a long hard Winter. Jack still came calling.
His coat a little lighter now , his frame a little slimmer.It was almost dark by 4pm and just prior to Christmas the first
snows fell. Sometimes I would not see him ... only his tracks, but at least these told me he was safe and alive. He was not
fickle enough to allow the Siberian winds and snow coming off the North Sea to interupt his dusk patrol.
Boxing Day brought the shooting parties and I
didn't see Jack that evening, or for the next ten days. No Winter sleek hare ... no tracks , only hysterical pheasants and
shiney black gun dogs. My heart sank and as the days passed I was forced to consider the possibility that Jack was dead. Then
on the eleventh evening when I had all but lost hope, there he was. His casual stance seemed to convey a disappointment in
me. That I could doubt his ability to survive a few noisy guns and a clutch of zealous Retrievers.
Spring was late coming but Jack grew rounded
again and went acourting. I never saw his Lady love but I was permitted the honour of seeing his fine leverets one evening.
Only the one time though.It was if he would not allow his relationship with me to encroach on his family life. A fair arrangement
... I was first and foremost only a guest in his world. He was always in control and I had no right to him or his domain.
When Summer had passed midway, I did something
that almost damaged our relationship beyond repair. I got a dog, Bess. She was a gentle frightened creature from a bad home.
However to Jack she was his mortal enemy. He deserted me for weeks. Even when I went looking for him, always without the dog,
I could find no trace. I went along his secret runs ... I sort out his favourite day-dreaming sites, but Jack had simply vanished.
It was as if he was punishing me. How dare I bring the enemy into camp?
Then, one night as I sat on the sand cliffs overlooking
the old railway track, he appeared out of the shadows. I had been forgiven. From then on however, he never allowed me to follow
him. I felt it was not lack of trust, merely a new phase in our understanding. We had both grown in appreciation of each others
seperate lives that Summer. He was a wild hare and he made me re-appraise that fact. I had slipped into the trap of attributing
to him human emotions. They were mine alone, and I was now more aware of his grace and wildness. We had achieved a natural
balance.
The night of the Hunters full Moon that Autumn,
was a night I shall remember the rest of my life. A scene straight from a fairy tale was played out. It was long after sunset
and the huge yellow full Moon hung in the sky. I had never seen Jack out that late. I was walking with Bess ... held by the
sight of the circle of the Moon seemingly sitting on the top of the rising ground. I could see her silhouetted against the
sky. Quite suddenly there he was too. Dog and hare black against the Moon. Neither aware of each other. The kind of picture
you see in a childs story book. Pure magic. Then he was gone and she came back to me. I stood for a long time, silent and
full of joy.Never more than at that moment did I feel his freedom ... his wildness. His place in the scheme of things.
I still see Jack from time to time.He has made
me far more aware of the beauty of my surroundings. Aware of the need to keep his world safe and unsullied. Most of all though,
aware of my place in his land.
P.A.M 1983.
Background : The BBC Wildlife magazine each year runs a Wildlife
Writer Of The Year competition. It is open to amateurs and professionals alike. It has to be factual and has to have the theme
of the wild and the animals and our place in the bigger picture. That year there were 1000 entries.I got into the last 20
with the story above. If pride is a sin ... then I commit it. I am proud of that story. It happened ... and the priviledge
was mine to live it.
