If you see a hare—so it’s very early in the morning, it’s May Day, or the Equinox, or Hallowe’en, or All Hallows’ Day, or the other Equinox, or St Stephen’s Day, probably—out no doubt to drink the neighbouring cows dry—it’s a day of significance, anyway, for the cows—then make sure you shoot to injure, not to kill.

Inside the old cottage—damp, mould blooming on the windowpanes, an overwhelming smell of aniseed in the air—the following day, the old woman (what a horrible face on her) will have:

A broken leg
A bleeding arm
A missing finger
A bullet wound
A broken arm
A bleeding foot
A missing toe

Disappeared entirely

All these misfortunes, in all manners, match precisely those which befell the hare.

Suckle, suckle.

We know, of course, exactly why the cows are dry.1 The old woman is a witch and she transforms into a hare and the hare—a milk hare, which is also the old woman—at night moves about the place finding milk to suck.

Helen Charman



1. People also ask:

Are hares bad for the environment?
How do hares help the environment?
What might happen to mountain hares’ coats if global warming happens?
How many animals have died from climate change?
What do hares like eating?
Are hares vermin?
Why are snowshoe hares affected by climate change?
Do wolves eat snowshoe hares?
What climate do hares live in?
What was the mechanism behind the increased cause of mortality among these snowshoe hares?
What determines a region’s climate?






Artwork:
Hannah Buckman
rat person, 2021