Hare today gone tomorrow?

Standing quietly, amusing myself, watching the hens chasing insects in the dusk, I saw a flicker of movement at the corner of my vision.

The largest hare I have ever seen, I swear the size of a Muntjac, loped in a leisurely manner across my neighbours field, disappearing into my as yet uncut hayfield.

I have not seen many hares this year, the tussling bucks having been absent from their usual haunts this spring. I was wondering if they had been extinguished  in Crowcroft, but no, happily here she is, minding her own business.

To return to the hens, anyone who has witnessed the ungainly run and ineffective take off of an Orpington Buff would never eat any thing other than free range again.

They clearly hunt for fun as they rarely catch anything and food abounds in their dishes.

Camouflage is not their strong point and since their acceleration rate would make Jeremy Clarkson cringe it is only a very slow flying moth that ends up as a tasty mouthful.

One of my beloved 'chicks' is clearly an infant cockeral thug in the making and, sooner, rather than later, will have to be sent to his doom.

He already contemplates squaring up to my legs and it is only his puny size compared to a huge fat Orpington  that prevents him harrying all the hens.