The rites of spring

Spring is most definitely here. I went out, a few days ago, to observe the hares. They are magnificent to watch, and magnificent to eat - though I haven't recently, because at £15 per beast I'm more likely to grab a chicken.

There's an art to spotting animals in the distance. After years spent lying in the undergrowth with an air rifle I can pick out a rabbit in an instant - the evening sunlight filters through their ears, which glow pink. If you didn't know, you might think they are fallen leaves. A hare, to the untrained eye, may to be a clod of earth - or if you are imaginative, a cow-pat. Once practiced, however, you will spot them everywhere.

Hare-watching is a hungry business, and the best sustenance is in the hedgerows.  Hawthorn leaves appear before any others, and cast the land into a pale green glow. I pluck them off the branches in passing, wherever I am - parks, gardens, urban scrub - and nibble away. With a delicate taste - crisp, nutty, with a hint of astringence - they are a delight to be enjoyed for only a few short weeks of the year.

I first learnt about hawthorn leaves from a book I had as a child - it had crabby drawings and explained everything about how to live off the land. I have no idea what it was called, but it inspired a lifetime of nibbling.

There are other spring leaves to be had. Beech leaves, emerging in a few weeks, can be infused into gin for a fragrant concoction. The leaf of the lime tree has salad properties - and can also be popped in the hand, as a deranged old man once demonstrated to me. But the hawthorn is the best - fresh, bright and with the absolute taste of spring. In a week or two, they will already be turning tough - so if you haven't tried one, go out and forage while you can.