The Moors Hare.

The Yorkshire Moors was covered with a blanket of thick snow, and I was following the deep footprints of a hare intended for the weekend roast ( smothered in French Mustard and baked ) After a short while the prints just stopped, not a trace of a scuffle or a change in direction, nothing! Looking up I could see him ahead, easily within shooting distance, but maybe it was the way he managed to travel leaving no prints, or the way he was looking at me, I think it was out of respect that I folded my gun up and went home. No more hare shooting now.
dougle dougle
66-70, M
May 17, 2012