hare | Life in the English Cotswolds

I have now lived in the little stone cottage set in the heart of the secret valley for twenty-six years, far longer than any other house during my lifetime. Its isolation became my refuge when, with my then new partner’s support, I rebuilt my life after a period of huge emotional difficulty. It was here where I made new friends, found new interests, developed my horticultural career and surrounded myself with animals. Soon the two of us will be moving house and leaving the valley forever. More of this later, today it seems appropriate to take a wander around the valley and re-visit some of those happy memories.

*A cold day in the valley viewed from the warmth of our conservatory*

The cottage as regular readers of this blog will know is set in small, deep and well-hidden valley. It is surrounded by fields and by the river which wraps itself around two sides of the house. It is a river of extremes, in places deep and slow, in others clear and fast running. At times its banks are quite straight, whereas along other stretches it is full of bends and meanders, as shown in my blog header. At present, especially because of the prolonged drought, the water levels are low, no doubt before long it will have filled and spilled over to flood the fields and lane. Our house sits high enough never to be threatened by flood, in fact, I rather like it like that for it brings the water birds so much closer.

*When the river floods it floods deep and wide*

When I first came here, the farm of which the cottage is part, concentrated on sheep, my favourite of all farm animals. They were a happy link to past times spent on Exmoor working on a friend’s farm – it was Exmoor where I learnt to lamb, to shear and to embrace remote living. Now, the sheep have gone and beef cattle have taken their place. It is equally lovely to see them grazing just feet away from the windows and their curiosity and friendship are endearing. Calving takes place twice a year – how glad I am that I never learnt how to help with that!

*I really miss not having sheep on the farm – apart from when its snowy!*

Living where we do it was very easy to collect animals, and horses, chickens, guinea fowl and quail, cats, as well as several dogs, all became part of the daily routine. I had always ridden horses since my teens but I had never been a confident rider. That all changed when my partner who is a superb rider and has won numerous competitions, arranged for me to have my own horse and lessons from one of the best teachers in the area. Jo was a strict taskmaster and before long I was able to charge about feeling quite secure on Barney, a gentle giant of horse, an Irish Draught. He was followed by several others including Tux, a retired racehorse straight off the track. He and I would have constant disagreements about what speed we intended to travel but, I’m glad to say, no bones were broken in the process of learning how to control him. The dogs deserve a blog post of their own which no doubt they will get before too long.

*The number of horses kept growing!*
*The little horse to my right is Tux, the very mischievous retired racehorse*
Photo credit: Jane Stilwell

Because it is so quiet here in the valley, wildlife abounds with fox, badger, deer and the occasional otter, as well as some wonderful birdlife. As dusk draws in it is not uncommon to see a fox amble across the meadow and I have learnt where to quietly sit if I want to see them with their cubs. When I was much younger I would also lie on the ground in near total darkness waiting for the badgers to venture out of their setts; these days I am more than happy to just have a fleeting glimpse of a badger without all that discomfort. It is only with the greatest luck that you’ll come across an otter which has happened to me twice. They are wonderful creatures, how privileged I was for a family of them to sit by the river bank and allow me to photograph them. Hare are so common here, that I almost forget just how lucky I am to see them nearly every day.

*Fox with ears pricked to every sound but not noticing me!*

*Otters are occasional visitors but not often seen*

There is so much to mention about the valley – the wild flowers, the dry stone walls or the houses, for example – that my writing of it will not cease with the move. Likewise, I don’t have any plans to change the header of the winding river even though it will be an hour away. And of course I shall still be living on the very edge of the Cotswolds with lots of new places and adventures to share. And then there’s the history, the new place has a fascinating story of its own and the hills there have a very different character to those here in the valley. All the new will have to wait for it is still a month or two before we finally arrive. So, where is this new life going to be taking place? All will be revealed in due course. In the meantime, here is a little teaser: this wonderful fountain which wouldn’t look out of place in Rome is just a four-minute walk from our door. I hope you will all continue to join me as I continue my Life in the English Cotswolds.

*Just one of many fountains within walking distance of our soon-to-be new home*

“ As mad as a March hare” so the old saying goes and at this time of year they certainly seem to be a little bonkers with their racing around, boxing and generally erratic behaviour. However, it isn’t spring madness but sex that is on their minds – rather than being ‘a little bonkers’ it is their desire for a little bonking that drives them to the verge of insanity.

Here in the secret valley, as elsewhere, the hare population in some years is greater than others. It looks as if 2022 is going to be a good year for them for there were eight in the field by our house a couple of days ago. This gave great opportunities to watch them from relative comfort as they hurled themselves at one another and galloped around the field at great speed. Of course, as soon as I reached for the camera they disappeared almost as if they thought that filming hare porn was rather distasteful and embarrassing. After a while I realised there was one keeping well-hidden watching me.

This ability to disappear has over the years given rise to many superstitions and old wives’ tales. They were thought to have mystical properties too and I did on one occasion experience this myself. I was visiting the ancient, subterranean earthwork, New Grange in Ireland. If ever you were going to have a mystical experience it would be here for you enter the tomb by a long, low and very narrow passageway before entering a large stone chamber. With almost no natural light it takes a while for your eyes to grow accustomed to the semi-darkness. The friend that I was with said that she thought she’d fleetingly seen two hares which, of course, was impossible for we were blocking the only exit. Back outside, we came to the spot where the two hares should be and there, at our feet they rested, two baby leverets, completely unafraid of our presence.

*The entrance to the prehistoric burial chamber at New Grange*

*The two baby hares were nestling in the grass…*

The hare has been revered and feared in equal measure throughout the world. It was considered an ill-omen to meet one upon the road; there are myths concerning the cycles of the moon and the hare both connected to lunacy. It has been much connected with ancient art and can be found in prehistoric rock paintings; in England in the Cotswold town of Cirencester (originally a Roman town known as Corinium) we have the magnificent Roman Hare mosaic now on display in the local museum (link here). Discovered fifty years ago, it dates from 400AD and shows the animal feeding.

Hares are considered to be very nervous and flighty animals that also have the capacity to do huge amounts of damage if they should enter gardens or orchards. Some years ago, one took up residence in a garden I cared for and I found, at least in this instance, that this was quite untrue. Admittedly, if anyone entered the garden it would quickly hide but It accepted me as part of the garden and would hop around my feet quite happily. It must have been feeding within the garden but I never found this to be a problem. It is always a huge privilege when a wild creature trusts you and to be able to observe one at such close quarters especially so. I always hoped it would raise a family there but I was more than satisfied with having just the one.

*‘My’ hare would rest beneath a flowering jasmine but come out to join me in the garden*

‘My’ recent hares finally couldn’t resist returning to their antics. Outrunning one another with their great speed and ultra-quick turns they, at last, didn’t notice me reaching for the camera. Although tricky to capture on film I finally succeeded. As I did so, I thought of the thirteenth-century poem that I was supposed to recite to avoid bad luck. The Names of the Hare, written in Middle English, lists seventy-eight names – With no memory for lengthy poems, I had to rely upon my previous friendship with the hare and the hope that would hold me in a special, protected place. It seems to have done so but just as the myths claim, today when I went to bid them ‘good-day’, not a hare was in sight.