The African Rabbit

Rabbits have always been special to me, this association dating back to the Geraldine Elliot books which my mother read to my brother and I when, as small boys in the second Mombasa house we had in Cliff Avenue, we were required to join her on her bed during our compulsory afternoon siestas. I have written about these books before - here. One of their main characters was Kalulu the rabbit, who was the trickster in Bantu folk lore, whose stories were transported to the Caribbean and Americas by slaves from West Africa, in which he became the character Br'er Rabbit. So, from an early age, I learned that rabbits were clever.

In fact, the African rabbit isn't a rabbit but a hare. My first recollection of seeing one 'in the wild' was on one of those miserable days when I had just boarded an aeroplane departing from Nairobi airport on my return to school in England after a summer holiday in Mombasa. As the 'plane taxied out onto the runway to take off, I recall seeing a 'rabbit' feeding on the grass a short distance from the 'plane, this noisy silver monster not bothering it in the slightest. It was one of those occasions when I swore I would never forget the moment: and I haven't.

My next encounter with rabbits was on the lawns at the rear of Telham Court, the building which housed my prep school, Glengorse. The boys weren't usually allowed access to these lawns but, one sunny summer's day, the headmaster, who took us for Art, permitted me to go on to the lawn to sketch some rabbits which were happily feeding there. I managed to crawl very close to them, and produced some rather pleasing pictures.

Tsuro remains with us, having taken up residence in the marsh grass which surrounds our pond. I do rather worry for him as there are some large crows coming in to the garden to feed on the small birds' food, but he seems very capable of looking after himself. And he is behaving himself: he seems quite content to eat the grass and not our plants.