Frost Dancers: A Story of Hares

by Garry Kilworth

  In the summer months the oak was surrounded by a rough circle of bare earth, pressed to a denseness geological time would be hard put to match. This phenomenon was caused by the feet of the same human young who visited the horse chestnut in the autumn, for they made rope swings in the oak and climbed up into its branches to fashion dens and lookout posts. They chattered like starlings, rarely saw the hares let alone bothered them, and were generally entertaining, especially when the farm workers saw them and chased them along the river bank.

  The river itself was on a bend where it met the two fields, encircling them like a comforting arm. It was wide – too wide to swim across – and on fine days sailboats and dinghies could be observed drifting like moths over its shimmering surface.

  The main enemy as usual apart from the flogre, were foxes who came along the riverbank and dropped down into the shallow basin holding Whinsled Lea. Their highways were well defined in the meadow, where animal paths were centuries old, but in the field of white mustard, whose mass of yellow flowers formed a mirror for the sun all summer long, their tracks were constantly being renewed and Eyebright suggested that she and Skelter dig their forms in some corner of the meadow where they could not be surprised.

  There were two rabbit warrens in the meadow, but none in the mustard field. The rabbits never bothered Eyebright, and she had nothing to do with them. Grey herons came to the shallows of the river, which was partly tidal, and there was a great variety of waders and shore birds who made their homes along its banks, from godwits to curlews to sandpipers. There were no badgers, but there was an otters’ holt in the bank of a stream that ran down between the meadow and a cottage. A solitary sparrowhawk, which disappeared for most of the summer months, was occasionally in residence. He could be seen drifting around on stiff wings, looking for prey much smaller than Eyebright or Skelter.

  Skelter accepted the jill’s offer immediately, though he knew nothing about her beyond the fact that she had been born and raised in the colony. She had been too quiet and serious to gain his attention before now and he did wonder what prompted her to ask him if he wished to join her. She told him that her reasons were the same as his: that she disliked being alone and would prefer company. That seemed fair enough.

  She gave him a tour of the fields before she would let him accept her offer and he found them, for flatland country, more than adequate. Skelter especially liked the startlingly blue corn-flowers, a plant he had never seen before. He asked moonhare if it was all’ right and she sniffed and said she supposed so. Thus it was all settled, and one hot still day when the insects were buzzing and clicking, and the ditchweeds were withering through lack of moisture, the two hares went off together and selected their spots to dig their forms. Skelter dug both of them, being more skilled at the work, while Eyebright watched and admired his technique, making him feel quite highland proud.

  Skelter found the meadow especially good, almost as grand as the hillsides covered in heather that he missed so much, for there were so many grasses to choose between, as well as herbs, weeds and wild flowers.

  At first there was an awkwardness between Skelter and Eyebright which was difficult to overcome, but once Skelter got the jill to talk about things she was familiar with and he was in ignorance of their relationship began to improve. He asked her to teach him more about the culture of the field hares so that he did not make any silly mistakes, and there is nothing like this sort of thing for overcoming shyness.

  She told him about the signs hares used to pass messages to each other.

  ‘A straight twig left in a furrow means food in the direction of the fat end. A crooked stick on a ridge means man has been here recently. A short paw scratch on the ground means that a small predator, such as a weasel, has passed by this place. A long paw scratch means a large predator, like a fox or badger. A U-shaped scratch is not really a signal, it’s a method of turning mad spirits around to go back in the direction they came from.’

  ‘Mad spirits?’

  ‘Yes, you know the wind carries the spirits of mad, strange creatures called idbitts, which are unable to go to the Otherworld, or even Ifurin, because they actually never existed in real life. These are doomed to roam the earth, carried within the folds of the wind, and if they can they’ll get into any living hare’s head and send him or her mad too!’

  Skelter was sceptical but tried not to show it.

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘I didn’t know that. We mountain hares have bad spirits, of the mountains, that hide in rocks and gullies, cracks in the peat, that sort of thing, but no mad ones.’

  ‘Well there are plenty down here, on the flatlands, where the winds slice across the marshes and over the fields in sheets. If you draw a U scratch on the ground, any mad idbitt spirit has to follow that U and of course goes back in the direction from which it came.’

  ‘Are there any other methods of getting rid of them? I noticed for instance that you placed a bird’s skull you found right on the edge of the meadow.’

  Eyebright sat up tall, her forepaws in the begging position.

  ‘Ah, I’m glad you noticed that, Skelter: you’re very observant. The reason I did that was because bird skulls often, that is usually, contain immobile mad spirits, called iddabs, which can’t stop talking. If you put your ear to a bird’s skull you can hear the iddab inside whispering away, and it’s true, it never does stop. If you put one of these on the edge of your territory, any idbitts that try to pass will be engaged in conversation by the iddab, and in the end the idbitt is so distracted by the iddab’s incessant chatter it forgets to enter the field and goes on its way elsewhere.’

  Skelter’s mind was beginning to stretch at this point, so he said to Eyebright, ‘That’s most interesting. Most interesting. So any bird skulls I find I give to you to put on the periphery of our territory.’

  ‘Except the land bordered by the river, because idbitts can’t cross water anyway, so they won’t come from that direction.’

  ‘Of course not, how silly of me.’

  Next, Eyebright told him about white pebbles, that the owner of one of these lucky finds would be protected against attack from dogs and foxes if the pebble was kept in the finder’s form.

  ‘They’re very rare though,’ she said.

  Skelter had seen hundreds of them on the shoreline, with the crabs scuttling over them, but he did not say so.

  ‘Then there’s the fact that if you half-bury an ivy leaf near a form with leverets in it, this will help protect them from predators. A hawthorn or blackthorn twig buried near a path will deter humans from using that path … I think that’s enough for now, don’t you?’

  Skelter agreed that he had taken on sufficient information to keep him happy for a while. He thanked his new companion profusely, while at the same time wondering whether there were even greater surprises to come from these superstitious creatures he had joined, and wished he were back in the highlands for about the hundredth time since he had left.

  That evening, before the failing of the light, the pair of them went silly, and dashed backwards and forwards, rolling over, somersaulting, skimming around molehills and leaping over daisies in an overspill of exuberance, after the tensions that went with communal living. Despite her reserve and the intense nature of her personality, he felt he could share the territory with her without too many problems.

  When dusk came they crept into their U-shaped forms and waited anxiously for the going of the grey. The flogre had taken a rabbit that very morning from one of the warrens on the edge of Whinsled Lea. The rabbits had overstayed their feeding period, too intent on getting food into them to watch the skies, and the dawn had come up on them unexpectedly. They had run for their burrows, but much too late, and the deadly giant predator came out of nowhere, grey out of grey, and snatched a fat doe just two body lengths away from the warren entrance. They heard her squeals fade into silence.

  Moonhare had said to Skelter before they had dispersed that he must consider himself a marked hare and to watc
h himself more than ordinarily.

  ‘News travels and no doubt the flogre has heard how the hares are managing to avoid capture these days, because a newcomer has taught them to dig a different kind of form. The flogre will be after that newcomer …’

  There was no reason to suppose this were true, for who would it be that could talk to such a creature? Only another flogre, surely, and so far as everyone knew, this one was unique. Still, if it were a mythical creature, crossed over somehow from some twilight world, or out of Ifurin, then perhaps it had magical ways of finding things out? Maybe it could read minds at a distance, or was told secrets by the whispering grasses, the rustling leaves in the trees? Skelter imagined the flogre sitting on its nest, with an army of strange little insects all murmuring his name, ‘Skelter, Skelter, Skelter, Skelter, Skelter, Skelter, Skelter …’ and the flogre working itself up into a fury of hate, tearing blocks of stone to pieces with its claws, in its desire to get even with the hare from the highlands.

  Skelter shuddered in his form.

  ‘Are you all right?’ called Eyebright.

  He replied, ‘Yes, why?’

  ‘I heard you whimper.’

  ‘Only a dream,’ he said.

  Chapter Twenty

  The summer season was long and lazy, with visits from moonhare and sunhare, and nothing much to do but eat and watch the fields grow until harvest time. Butterflies, craneflies, damselflies, gnats and mayflies filled the air, bringing in the swifts and swallows. There were mice everywhere, hundreds and thousands of mice: field mice, wood mice, harvest mice. Voles and shrews too. They scrambled through the grasses, along the ditches, in a murmuring of frantic activity. Magpies glided like stringless kites from tree to ground, swaggered around, bullying even the squirrels when they had a mind to.

  There were otters down by the river, sleek creatures who cut through the water like fish. Water rats and coypu lived around the banks and made a nuisance of themselves.

  Children came and played on the oak, their constant chatter and shrieking becoming a familiar sound to Skelter’s ears. He watched them build their dens, swing on their ropes, play their games amongst the hedgerows. If they ever saw him they merely pointed, their attention diverted for a few moments before they went back to their fantasy world again.

  There were dangers, of course. Foxes came and had to be evaded: two of the colony’s deaths were the result of foxes that summer, but luckily for Skelter and Eyebright there was easier prey along the banks of the river amongst the wading birds.

  The flogre came, wheeling in at dusk and dawn, but had to take other meals because the hares had protected themselves with their mountain forms.

  There were dogs too, sometimes walked by their owners across the meadow, but occasionally out on their own, looking for adventure. Dogs were not so dangerous as foxes. They were not out hunting through hunger, but for sport, and the hares knew that a sporting predator tires more easily than a hungry one.

  Near to the meadow, just a short unmade lane away, was a small cottage where lived a man with hair on his face. There was a dog there too, a big St Bernard that often accompanied the man on his walks along the river and over the field. This pair turned out to be quite harmless, for the man seemed intent on observing wildlife, not on destroying it. There was always a pair of field glasses around his neck, and he often carried devices that were interesting but not harmful to the birds and beasts. Whenever hares or rabbits bolted he kept a rigid control of the dog, never letting it give chase. Sometimes the dog was out alone, but her discipline was such that she still allowed wild creatures to dash away from her without pursuing them. This was a novelty to Skelter, who had experience of sheepdogs with flocks, who would not chase hares, but this enormous hound had no such responsibilities and still kept herself in check.

  One quiet morning in mid-season Eyebright and Skelter were feeding in the meadow, close to each other. Suddenly, a shrill sound hit the air, a high whistle. Instinctively, Skelter’s ears went rigid, poking up out of the grasses, to ascertain what was going on. The next second a loud blast came from nearby, and the tops of grasses and wild flowers were mowed by a swathe of pellets from a shotgun.

  Skelter was not hit by this first shot but bolted and made his unusual arcing run, towards the ditch. Another shot followed, this time much too high, and Skelter thanked his ghost-hare that the human was a poor shot. He stopped and hid in some tall grasses near the ditch, his heart pounding, hoping that Eyebright had managed to escape. Peering through the grasses he could see two humans, swarthy creatures dressed in bright scarves, tramping over the meadow looking for him. One of them lay down level with the tops of the grasses, while the other put two fingers to his lips and emitted another shrill whistle, but Skelter had learned his lesson: he kept his ears flattened against his skull.

  The trick was an old one, played by humans on field hares since the invention of the gun. One would lie down at eye-level with the top of the grass while the other would whistle, and any unsuspecting hare in the vicinity would prick up its ears and reveal its position, either in grass or furrow.

  Skelter had fallen for it first time because, being a mountain hare, he had never encountered this particular deception before, and no doubt in unwary moments in the future he would fall for it again. They had a cheek though, these two hunters, expecting him to respond immediately after doing it once. He might be a jack from the hills with little field experience, but he had not been born yesterday.

  The two hunters, with their flat caps low over dark eyes, came walking towards the spot where he crouched. One of the pair was slashing the grasses with a stick. The other had a firm hand on the double-barrelled shotgun. It looked an old smooth-bore, small gauge weapon, with octagonal barrels and external strikers. The butt was worn to a stubby club-shape and the stock was shiny with constant polishing.

  One of the men already had two rabbits joined by a piece of string slung over his right shoulder. By their lean hard faces and dark glinting eyes Skelter could tell they were real hunters, out to find a meal, rather than sporting types pandering to their boredom. These were men who knew the hunger of the fox, the empty winter belly that sharpens wits and will. They had fox-like features, expressions, intent. In a word, they were dangerous: this was no game to them, this was survival.

  Skelter saw Eyebright bolt from somewhere about twenty lengths ahead of the men. The gun came up, but the man did not fire this time, and eventually lowered his weapon. Obviously the range was too great to waste a shot. The men came on, knowing there was a second hare not far away. Skelter kept absolutely still, flattened against the ground close to a cow pat.

  The feet came on, until Skelter could smell the stink of the fired gun, and the smoke-breath of the two hunters. Feet came closer and closer, until Skelter was sure he would be trodden on by one of those boots. A foot finally passed within fractions of his head and squelched in the cow pat. It was retrieved hastily, with much growling and grunting from its owner, who proceeded to tear up handfuls of grass and wipe his boot just a body-length away from Skelter.

  The two men tramped around, kicking at tufts of grass, staring into the middle distance. Finally, they walked to another part of the field, never seeing the hare that was right under their noses. There was a nightjar too, just a few lengths away from Skelter, sitting on her nest. She had been staring at Skelter with frightened eyes as the boots were treading all around her, threatening at any moment to land on her nest. He saw the relief in the face of the well-camouflaged bird, when the humans eventually left, and wished he could speak to her. They had shared a common experience between them. However, they did not share a common language, so Skelter said nothing.

  Skelter found Eyebright not far from their forms.

  ‘That was close,’ he said, ‘are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she replied, ‘but I hope they don’t come back, now that they know we’re here.’

  ‘I doubt it. They probably thought we were rabbits and there’s enoug
h of those around.’

  ‘No, they were gypsies, they knew what they were doing. If they come back, it’ll be with a lurcher, to run us down. If they do, we’ll really be in trouble. I hope those two rabbits they’ve got will satisfy them. I hate lurchers.’

  ‘Lurchers?’

  ‘Half greyhound, half whippet – all skin and bone, but fast as lightning. They’re a devil to outrun, if you get one on your tail. Jaws full of sharp teeth.’

  ‘Yes, I remember greyhounds.’ He gave a shudder. ‘These lurchers sound a formidable foe. What do we do?’

  ‘Just be on our guard,’ said Eyebright. ‘If they come back, I suggest we dash down to the river. We can always jump in and swim if necessary.’

  ‘Here? The river’s too wide.’

  ‘You don’t have to go all the way across. You can let the current take you downstream, then struggle ashore on another part of the river. It’s a drastic method of escape, but in an emergency you do what you can.’

  ‘Of course,’ agreed Skelter.

  Later that day Skelter went down to that part of the river, to the point where a brook met the main body of water. While drinking from the stream he would have called a burn in his own highland country he was startled by something that broke the surface, almost under his nose. It was an otter. The creature came out onto the bank beside him, and its small bright eyes regarded him with interest.

  ‘Good day, smallish hare,’ said the otter, ‘I have the understanding you are not of the local variety of lepus, is my comprehension accurate, would you say?’