Hare today ... gone tomorrow?

Press, 13 April 1985, Page 19

Hare today ... gone tomorrow?

By

PETER COMER

Anyone who takes much notice of things pastoral will have noticed that the hare population in Canterbury and South Canterbury seems to be declining steadily. It is a sad state of affairs for the hare has been an interesting part of country life and lore for hundreds of years. Even farmers who have cursed hares for ravaging young grass and crops — they say that 10 hares eat as much as one sheep — or for nipping the tops out of young trees, would be sorry to see them disappear. There are few finer sights than buck hares standing on their hind legs and boxing one another in a paddock of young grass at dusk, or bounding through long grass on a sunny nor-west day. At one time, hare was a welcome addition to the country dinner table, “jugged hare” being the most famous recipe, and still to be found in a lot of cookbooks.

Even some country people refuse to eat hare because of the dark colour and powerful taste of the meat, but this can be easily overcome by soaking the skinned and gutted animal in brine for a couple of days. After this simple process, a hare casserole with the proper ingredients has few rivals.

Because of their wild eyes, it was once commonly accepted that hares were witches transformed. A

circle of hares all looking inward was thought to be a witches’ coven. Because the hare seems to have a much greater volume of blood in its body than other animals of similar size, it was once widely believed that if a pregnant woman ate hare she would have a miscarriage. Another peculiar belief was that if a hare ran through a town street, a fire would soon follow. On the other hand, a hare’s foot was considered as handy a good luck charm as a rabbit’s foot. The hare has had rather a chequered career in this country. Some arrived at Lyttelton in 1851 aboard the ship Eagle. They escaped overboard into the harbour, but some apparently swam safely to shore, since hares were seen on Banks Peninsula a few months later.

The Canterbury Acclimatisation Society obtained two hares from overseas ships in 1868, and four more in 1873. Mr Gordon Holmes, of Pigeon Bay, imported four on his own account in 1872.

In the next 20 years, the hare spread far and wide over the Canterbury Plains and into the mountains. Hares were first noticed in the Mackenzie Country in 1896. In 1903, they reached maximum numbers, declining thereafter for no apparent reason. Similar gains and falls in population, possibly the result of changes

in the environment or disease, have occurred in many areas since. Hares have been found in Canterbury at altitudes of up to 7000 ft. Occasional white or silver-grey individuals have been recorded in the Mackenzie country in winter, and a black hare was shot near Burkes Pass in 1958.

For some reason, many city dwellers find it difficult to tell a hare from the rabbit. There is a clear difference. Hares are readily distinguishable from rabbits by their larger size, more rangy and powerful build, browner colour, and black-tipped ears. Hares do not burrow like rabbits, but hide their young, often separately, in “forms” in the grass. Their habit of sitting tight in this crouch, confident that they will not be discovered (possibly where the saying, “let the hare sit” came from) unfortunately often proves fatal at hay-making time. The hare knows that the tractor will safely pass him by. He dtfes not know that the mower blade is whispering towards him through the thick grass. Hearing the cry of agony from the hare, like a child in pain, and having to put it out of his misery, is something not easily forgotten.

Much of the hare’s natural history is still a mystery, including its March madness (October madness in this country). Leverets are born with their eyes open in litters of up to four, but usually about two. The average body weight of hares in New Zealand is 3.Bkg (maximum 4.7 kg) for adult females, and 3.4 kg (maximum 4.4 kg) for adult males.

The speed of the hare has always fascinated people, and for centuries it was regarded by huntsmen as a more noble quarry than the fox. It is a very fast dog that can get close enough to a hare to make it turn; even then, the change of direction is so sudden and sharp that the dog is left sprawling. For the hunter without a dog, the hare’s willingness to sit tight makes him difficult to flush out. Sometimes he almost has to be trodden on before he will bolt.

It takes a practised eye to tell a squatting hare from a dead thistle in the setting sun. An old South Canterbury farmer reckoned he had a foolproof way to tell a hare from a thistle or a clump of dirt: when you walk towards a thistle or a clump of dirt, it gets bigger. When you walk towards a hare it

gets smaller, crouching into the ground. Hare drives, once a regular event in parts of the country, are now rare in many districts. The reasons for the hare’s decline in numbers are probably several. .Like many animals it thrives on a varied diet, so huge areas of mono-culture wheat or other crops are not to its liking.

Spray is another hazard. Instead of running, the hare crouches and gets sprayed. When it licks itself clean, it poisons itself. Spraying in the evenings adds to the problem. The toxic sprays are still wet and active when the hare comes out to feed.

At any rate, the man with a gun is probably the least of the hare’s problems. As’ Heinrich Hoffman wrote in “The Man Who Went out Shooting”: “He finds it hard without a pair of spectacles, to shoot the hare. The hare sits snug in leaves and grass, and laughs to see the green man pass.”