A celebration of the wilder and more mysterious of our nation's lagomorphs, the dancers of the fields and the fastest British life on legs. John Lewis-Stempel's Meadowland is a wonderful book whose deep grasp of the land's rhythms helped me through a difficult time; unlike many nature writers he is himself also a farmer, of old farming stock, and it shows. This is not on the same level, though given it's also slim enough to read in a single lunch hour, one can't be too angry about that - at least, so long as one hasn't dropped one's hard-earned on it, which is always the problem with these pretty little books. In a sense it's even shorter than it looks; JL-S (and yes, now I've noticed that, you bet your life I will be persisting with it) has written an essay and embedded it in a miscellany, featuring poems (including a couple by William Cowper, who kept three hares as somewhat incongruous pets), artwork and even recipes running right back to the first English cookbook. Because one of his points is that while hunting the hare is now unacceptable, it's important to remember that there was formerly a great respect for them which was not incompatible with sending hounds after them, as seen in everything from Henry VIII's stern penalties for anyone hunting hares in the snow, to an Irish hunting song expressing the hope the prey will get away. Though, as he notes, it's part of their charm that for a prey animal they're far from meek, or as timid as proverbs sometimes suggest; they'll fight cats, stare foxes out, even box a buzzard on the snoot. The problem is that where Meadowland was born from an absolute understanding of one patch of earth, albeit spinning out in all sorts of directions, this is taking on a broader subject, with attendant risks. JL-S points out the many distinctions between rabbits and hares, which of course seem obvious to us now, but this is exactly the sort of point on which earlier eras could be very hazy; when it suits him, however, he's happy to assert that Tinners' Rabbits and Br'er Rabbit are simply and definitely hares, which seems plausible but hardly certain, or to refer to the Easter Hare, which frankly feels like sleight of hand to me, because I've heard only of the Easter Bunny, who seems a far rounder and more rabbit-y sort of figure. And if he is bringing in figures of modern myth, surely a better one to claim as hare despite all the times he's called 'rabbit' would be that great trickster, shapeshifter and subverter of norms, Bugs Bunny? Meanwhile, there are an awful lot of mentions, sans caveat, for that most debatable deity Eostre*, and a reference to homosexual and heterosexual men in ancient Greece as if they were distinct categories, and similar wince-inducers which then lead one to doubt the new information too. Which is a shame when it includes such beautiful notions as the old Chinese folklore that hares "are conceived through the touch of the full moon's light (without the need of impregnation by the male), or by traversing moonlit water, or by licking the moonlight from a male hare's coat", or the equally startling word from modern science that they can be impregnated even when already pregnant.
*Although of course if we consider gods as a sort of eddy in ideaspace, the fact that there are now untold millions who believe Eostre was once believed in is probably enough in itself to make her at least as solid as the direct belief of a few thousand ever would have, the latter being the most the majority of deities would generally have managed.