The Story of a HareTregarthen, J. C. (John Coulson)
General
The Story of a Hare
Tregarthen, J. C. (John Coulson)
Hares -- Fiction
Presently, shaking the water out of her ears, the otter dived, only,
however, to reappear with an eel in her mouth and land where the only
creek on the islet had often invited her. Scarcely more than her length
from the hare she lay down at full length with her head towards the
water, and, holding the prey firmly between her fore paws, proceeded to
devour it. Her wet coat gleamed when the sun rose across the level waste
marking moor and pool with the shadows of the turf-stacks, yet the otter
took no notice of the unfriendly rays; she was too much engrossed with
her prey. Once she looked up, but no noise had attracted her; the
slicing and champing of the flesh by her sharp white teeth was the only
sound of that hushed hour. When she had eaten part of the fish, she
dropped the remainder, advanced a few inches into the water and washed
her muzzle with her great splayed foot, interrupting her ablutions to
listen momentarily to the faint echo raised by a train of pack-mules.
Then she returned to the islet and rolled on the fern. Now this way, now
that, the long sleek creature turned and twisted, approaching
dangerously near the little knoll against which the hare was pressed so
close as to look scarcely more than half his size. At last, having dried
her coat, she sought a clump of osmunda some five lengths from the hare,
coiled herself up, and fell asleep.
Now again there was an opportunity for the hare to steal away: surely he
would take advantage of it. But no; rather than run the risk of
awakening the otter and being pursued, he decided to wait till twilight
should call his enemy away and leave the way clear for him to effect his
escape. So he sat watching the flank of the otter rise and fall, his
gaze never shifting, even when a cormorant rose close to the island and
looked at him with its green eyes before resuming its fishing.
Meanwhile the otter lay unconscious of the presence of the bird; but
towards sundown the scream of a gull, and again soon after, the croak of
a raven caused her suddenly to stir and scan the moor in order to
satisfy herself that there was no cause for alarm. A glance telling her
that all was well, she immediately lowered her head and dropped off
again. The raven that had alighted close to the pool remained till near
roosting time, and then flew away in the direction of the cliffs.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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