Raising Hare

The story begins not with intention, planning, or expertise, but with impulse. During a bitter winter in the countryside, the author comes across a tiny hare, motionless in a field and exposed to the cold. At first glance, it appears abandoned, fragile, and unlikely to survive. She hesitates, knowing just enough about wildlife to realize that interfering with wild animals is often discouraged. Yet instinct overrides caution. She decides to carry the small creature home temporarily, promising herself that she will return it at nightfall if possible.

This moment is pivotal not because it is heroic, but because it is uncertain. The author does not act with confidence or authority; she acts with doubt. She has no clear plan, no training, and no assurance that she is doing the right thing. A conservationist she contacts offers a blunt assessment: the leveret will almost certainly die. Still, she continues, guided by a half-remembered sense of her mother’s natural ease with animals and a feeling that leaving the hare alone would be a greater failure.

From the outset, the author’s inexperience is clear. The hare is astonishingly small, lighter than expected, and already alert. It can see, move, and react—qualities that unsettle her assumptions. Unlike many baby animals, this one does not appear helpless in the usual way. Yet its vulnerability is unmistakable. She improvises care with what she has on hand, including kitten milk and a small pipette borrowed from cosmetics tools. Feeding becomes a delicate ritual, filled with anxiety that one wrong movement could end the animal’s life.

As days pass, what was meant to be a temporary act becomes a sustained responsibility. The author finds herself tethered to this fragile being during a period when the world outside has slowed dramatically. Confined to the countryside by the pandemic, she is cut off from her former life of constant movement, deadlines, and international crises. The leveret becomes the focus of her days, quietly reshaping how she experiences time, attention, and purpose.

Learning the Difference Between Familiar Assumptions and Biological Reality

As the author cares for the hare, she quickly realizes how little she truly knows. One of the first lessons is that hares are not simply large rabbits. Though commonly grouped together in casual conversation, the two animals differ profoundly in biology, behavior, and survival strategies. These differences are not minor details; they shape every aspect of how a hare lives and dies.

Hares are significantly larger than rabbits and are built for speed rather than concealment underground. While rabbits are born blind, hairless, and dependent within burrows, leverets enter the world already equipped for danger. They are born fully furred, eyes open, and capable of movement within hours. Instead of nests, they occupy shallow hollows in open ground, relying on stillness and camouflage rather than physical shelter.

This knowledge reframes the author’s original discovery. What she assumed was abandonment may have been a natural state. Hare mothers leave their young alone for long periods, returning only briefly to feed them. This strategy reduces the risk of ...