The intensification of agriculture has been described as the “superfactor” leading to the decline of the hare population. The dramatic increase in the frequency of the mowing of fields as a result of modern farming methods, the ripping out of hedges to create vast fields to increase crop yields and accommodate huge machinery, and the rise in

it had a pharmacy label indicating that it was intended for “PATIENT: HARE,” listing my address and my name as the animal’s “OWNER.” I smiled, since nothing could be further from the truth. The leveret defied ownership, belonging only to itself.

I busied myself with work and gave philosophical replies to anyone who asked about the hare, hiding my sadness at its disappearance, and feeling guilty for my absence.

My clumsy efforts to block its access to the plant either had not deterred it or had created an even more comforting sense of shelter.

The leveret, when fully grown, would be capable of running at between thirty to fifty miles per hour, compared to the six miles an hour managed by the average human,

I decided I must try, and began to walk downstairs while calling gently to the mother hare. To my surprise, she ran straight towards me and pawed my leg. She followed me as I turned to where her leveret lay flat, its front paws splayed and chin resting helplessly on the step. She sniffed my hands as I bent down, scooped up the fallen leveret and

He asked me to bring it into the surgery as he ought to X-ray the leg. I feared that the experience, if not fatal, might shatter its trust in me. The leveret had never been put in a sealed box or transported, and I imagined its sensitive heart pounding away in such a confined space until it gave out.

But its winter pelt came on rapidly, including a generous ruff of fur below its throat that swelled like a mane as the weeks passed, and that it would sink its neck into while resting.

It developed a fascination with seams—such as the one on the side of my trouser leg—and would nibble its way down, like a crimping iron, its teeth never biting but its grip firm, leaving a raised ridge as if the cloth had been ironed. It would do this with the edges of pillowcases, duvets, the trimming on a cushion, the end of a shoelace, the