Occasional Scribbles

The Healing Power

Of A 

Thoughtful  Gift.  Raising Hare – by Chloe Dalton.                   

For my Sister.

Summer 2025 saw me with a bout of pneumonia and a miserable spell in hospital.

My dear sister, trying to help from a distance jumped to, in two main ways. The first was to give me a most marvellous book.  Knowing my deep love of animals and having heard such excitement and general buzz about it, she sent me, Raising Hare by Chloe Dalton, to cheer me up.

Described variously as “more than a wildlife memoir…a masterpiece”, Clare Balding, “a great and important tale for our times”, amongst other plentiful praise, including from Chris Packham and many others,  she knew instantly, it was just the right gift for me. It is about one of my most loved animals the Hare. And it is beautifully illustrated by Denise Nestor whose soulful soft pencil drawings run through the book.

Chloe Dalton, a high flier, who worked in London as a busy political advisor to Government in the fast paced world of the ever moving political scene, at first seems a somewhat unexpected heroine of her own story. But staying at her country home during covid, she wrote this debut book.  So beautifully written about raising a Leveret – a young Hare in the countryside. And of the strong bond that arose from her diligent and thoughtful care of the tiny little baby she found while out walking in the cold winter of that time.

Living in the countryside myself, I have successfully reared and released, three newly born wild rabbits when their mother was accidentally killed on a building site, overwintered hedgehogs too small to survive the sparse cold of winter.  I’ve had various injured birds in my makeshift ‘hospital’ including a pigeon who had to be persuaded to leave long after it’s recovery. And many other waifs and strays besides. So it was with great interest to me to see how Chloe managed the illusive, mysterious Hare.

As I lay wretchedly in my hospital bed, I opened the lovely book. And there began a love affair I’ve not known since my childhood attachment to children’s stories and a few poems I recall from then, to this day. I adore books! Preferably old tomes from the past with their lovely prose so I sometimes miss new ones. How lucky my sister has her hand on the best seller pulse, for this proved to be an utterly uplifting and striking tale.

Clearly a talented writer – Chloe wrote speeches, statements and media pieces as part of her job for Government but in turning her attention to writing about this deeply personal journey demonstrates a different talent altogether and is rightly recognised by so many.

This incredible story which saw her not only doing some fascinating research into the Hare going right back to early records and it’s brushes with humans and their mixed regard for Hares, some  of which is gruesome; not least descriptions of how to hunt, skin and cook them. But also of other more sympathetic attitudes to this strange beautiful animal that many in the countryside don’t like to kill to this day. But the story too, revealed a very sensitive soul in Chloe’s steadfast determination to save this adorable creature right through to adulthood, eventually leading to a brood or two of its own young Leverets, and remarkably their own offspring later on.

I was so struck by the intuitive decisions she made along the way. When the growing Hare, to her dismay, became ill, she at first consulted a vet who had never treated a Hare and proposed medicines that may or may not kill it.  He just didn’t know. After quite some difficulty obtaining the medicine during covid, she decided to gamble the outcome; live or die? And she bravely threw it away. With her careful attention and shelter, the Hare recovered. 

She also saw during that time that to cage the young Hare, in any way, as she wondered how to get it to the vet for consultation, would be a mistake. So she left it behind and collected the medicine without it, saving much stress to the animal. And with growing conviction, she later altered parts of her house to enable it’s free passage between it’s ‘home’ in her house and the greater outdoors that it would naturally wish to explore as it grew. Drawn beyond her garden to find other Hares it so needed to. 

It always returned of its own free will and volition. I would never have had the courage to do this fearing for its safety let loose where I live and scared I’d never see such a precious animal again. But she recognised that this soulful creature must be free at all times. It is likely this brave decision that made the bond of trust between her and the Hare so strong.

As I read this incredible story as the days went by in my sick bed in hospital, it’s power to distract me from my own misery, worries about the family back home and my generally diminished self, aided my recovery without doubt, as I was drawn into Chloe’s world of Raising Hare.

But I just couldn’t bare to finish the book. I worried continually about the ending, knowing as I do, how these things often turn out, not always for the better and usually sadly. I bothered a friend I’d made in the bed next to mine in hospital, about my fear that the story would end sadly, something I was just too weak to cope with. Noting my distress, she nudged me into seeing that I was only half way through the story and I’d likely be feeling much better by the time I got to the end! But, not convinced, I stopped reading as the end got closer.

So the second extremely kind thing my sister did, was to find and arrange a place for me to go to recover properly following my release from hospital, as the doctor laid out at least another six weeks to regain my health. I now needed recuperation away from the stresses of everyday domestic duty. I packed my things and signed out of hospital. I tucked the precious book, still not finished into the safety of my handbag and briefly returned home. And so, after a lot of work, since it was mid summer and many places were already booked, my dear sister found me a beautiful Norfolk barn to stay in. We bundled Dog into the car, and began the drive to the beautiful Broads that I’d been so longing to get to as my sister so kindly made the arrangements. 

The outstanding beauty and peacefulness on the edge of the Norfolk broads, the clear waters, gently whispering reeds complete with wildlife so important to me, and the pretty sail boats and windmills was balm to my frail soul.

What a gift. What a gift of thoughtful kindness.

I slowly recovered. I let myself read the final part of Chloe’s masterpiece in that peaceful part of our country. Everything I expected turned out to be wrong. Instead of what I thought to be the dreaded death of Hare, after such a long journey, mercifully turned out differently. In a stroke of genius writing, Chloe left the possibility that some day, Hare would not return. Something she bravely had come to terms with.

She drew attention to farming practices that can be a killer blow to Leverets, often left at the side of fields where they may be torn to pieces by modern machinery. She further drew attention to the plight of a diminishing Hare population as their habitat has been eroded and the dangers they face in the wild. But not once did she report that Hare had died. It was left as a possibility that both she, and I, hoped would never happen.

The relief was enormous. I grew stronger and returned home, packing away my now finished precious book. All the love from my dearest sister saw my own journey of recovery end.  I will never forget the kindness. As I’ve recommended this lovely story to friends, some have asked to borrow my copy. But instead I bought it for them . My own copy, the great gift it turned out to be, has an aura of specialness direct from my sister to me. I could never part with it.

I now look out constantly, for a tiny abandoned Leveret, peering into what I hope might be a ‘fold’, the shallow places Hares lie by field edges and long grass, hoping I too can follow in the footsteps of Chloe Dalton. So far I’ve not been lucky. Hares are so much rarer than they used to be here. The once large population near my home has dwindled completely. Where they once were seen often in the wide fields, sometimes ‘boxing’ each other, though no one quite knows why; it is now a rare sight to see them at all. But, hearteningly, recently, an adult Hare crossed in front of my car mere yards from my home one winter night, back where they always used to be. There is still hope for these beautiful animals and for me to one day, with luck, find my very own Leveret and begin my own adventure, Raising Hare.