When we first arrived a hare would walk around the house, occasionally staring in at us. Then it became three. Now there are seven hares. They run down the drive, lollop around the house then stare in at the French windows while we’re having our breakfast. They are interested in us but slighty incromprehending. When we’re working out in the garden they come to within five yards away and watch us. My father, when he sees them, keeps muttering under his breath about “marinades” and “hearty meals” but as far as the kids are concerned they are our new pets. The hares live aound the gorse and run around the field just below the marshes. They are not scared of us. They know we don’t have guns ( and they probably sense that if we did have guns we wouldn’t know how to use them). We have named all the hares Henry Hare, because we can’t tell them apart. It’s strange that hares are seen as noble long eared furry creatures that hang around in fields, whereas rabbits are annoying long eared furry creatures that hang around in fields. My father just stares calmly back at them with a wistful look in the his imagining dinner. We will have to keep counting the hares.
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