Hare today, none tomorrow

Sadly, since the practice of harvesting the grass thrice yearly for barn reared cows was instigated in Crowcroft, hares have virtually disappeared. The leverets are macerated by the mower, so it was with regret that I received a beautiful, cleanly killed hare at my feet from my triumphant lurcher Ruby last week. She ran it down over the maize stubble as it was being harvested last week.  I told her she was a very clever girl rather sadly and fervently wished it had been a rabbit, of which there only too many.  Ditto  the squirrels which jump from the walnut tree onto the roof every morning, landing with a clatter above my head. Their idea of sharing the walnuts does not coincide with mine.  Ruby did manage to eliminate one by imitating a statue under the silver birch, motionless for a whole morning. The rather indecisive squirrel finally decided she was in fact not alive and finally descended to the speedy jaws of death. Ruby can move with astounding speed when so inclined.