Threats to Irish hare are not just human

I MISS the hares in the meadow.

The meadow is outside the window of my writing room. A fine big meadow sloping down to the rushy fringes of the bog. Looking out at it inspires me.

Right now, there’s a small flock of starlings, a pair of jackdaws and a cock pheasant in it. But no hares. Ten years ago, they were regular visitors. Although they are nocturnal, lying up in nests in the rushes during the day and feeding in the meadow at night, on fine spring days they would often be tempted out for a nibble. But not any more.

I think I know what happened to them. One Sunday afternoon, six or seven years ago, a party of men, boys and lurchers in line abreast, came off the bog carrying several dead hares. They crossed the meadow laughing and joking and had obviously used military precision in their drive across the bog. I haven’t seen a hare in the meadow since.

No animal in Ireland is hunted in such a variety of legal and illegal ways as the hare. There is a shooting season for them that is longer than for game birds, they are pursued by foot beagles and mounted harriers, coursed by lurchers and netted for closed coursing by greyhounds. Human beings are the predator they have to fear the most.

But there are other threats. Donal Hickey reported in this newspaper recently on fears that European brown hares introduced by sporting interests may be hybridising with our native Irish hares (‘Irish hare may be running out of time’ — Apr 2). Early silage cuts, and a loss of suitable rough cover to lie up in, are also factors in their decline.

I saw silage being cut at the end of February this year. Hares can have as many as four litters a year and after a mild winter it is quite likely that there were leverets killed by the mowing blades.

The Irish hare is regarded as a sub-species of the mountain hare. That’s what most of the books say. But recent genetic research is pointing strongly to the notion that they should be reclassified as a full species. They’ve been around for a very long time — at least 26,000 years, and probably more than that, and over the millennia they have evolved several unique characteristics, one of which is that they don’t turn white in winter as other mountain hares do. If the geneticists are right, and I’m pretty sure they are, our hares are our only endemic species of mammal.

This places a special responsibility on us to look after them. The authorities recognise this and, some years ago, announced an ‘Irish hare all-Ireland species action plan.’ It was a joint effort between the Republic and Northern Ireland. Sadly, there has been much more progress in both research and conservation in the North than down here. Much of the reason for this has been drastic cuts in the budget of the National Parks and Wildlife Service.

The importance of the Irish hare is not just its uniqueness and its vulnerability. They also have huge cultural significance. They have been part of the Irish countryside for longer than we have and continually crop up in folklore, myth and legend. Their disappearance would be a national tragedy and an international loss of biodiversity.

I landed at Dublin airport recently. It’s a haven for hares. As the plane taxied in, I watched them through the window. It was disturbing to think that they were the first hares I’d seen for a long time.

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