Conquest of polar conditions

It's been harsher than Antarctica for a wildlife photographer on the Yorkshire Wolds. Robert Fuller reports on a successful pursuit, and the art of winter camouflage.

I've endured Antarctica to photograph wildlife but nothing there compares to watching courting hares on the Yorkshire Wolds this month.

I spent 10 days trudging through thigh-deep snow, sometimes for eight hours a day. It was one of the toughest assignments of my career.

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Hares don't just box and breed in spring, although this is the climax of the season, it can happen at any time and they can have three or four litters a year. They seem to favour specific fields for courtship, which they return to time and time again.

Hares are solitary animals and when I saw a couple together shortly after a heavy snowfall, I knew they had to be courting and I couldn't miss out on the chance to photograph them.

I had been out on a drive looking for owls and had already taken a great picture of a tawny owl roosting in an ash tree: a dusting of snow around its hole and a few flakes on its head.

The hares were sitting tight in individual snow holes and facing away from the biting wind. I grabbed my camera and tripod and headed across a large arable field where deep snow made for heavy going.

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Struggling through drifts above my waist, I spotted four more hares. They shuffled down deeper into the snow as I approached and flattened their ears until only their eyes were visible, peeking above the snow line.

I took a few shots of the courting couple and then the snow seemed to explode behind them as they leapt up and dashed away.

The other four made chase – there was a female in season.

Although it was difficult getting close enough for a good photograph, if I took heed of the wind's direction and moved slowly, sniper-like, I could get surprisingly close. Whenever the hares looked alarmed, I lay still and resumed when they settled down again.

It took an hour to get really close and it was bitterly cold. Whenever a large snow storm came over the hares hunkered down with their backs to the wind, all in a line. Between the storms males would go around the group, testing the female's receptivity. They were usually quickly rebuffed with a swift box from the female, who lay partially hidden in snow dugouts.

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I used the whiteouts to get closer still. But as the weather cleared they spotted me and were uneasy.

In my green camouflage gear I stuck out like a sore thumb in this landscape.

The hares dashed through a hedge which I used as cover as I approached them and then peered over into the next field. A larger group were in the middle of the field – there were eight in this new group and I could see still more in the distance – 20, perhaps 30. With so many pairs of eyes on look-out I was quickly spotted. I followed them to the bottom of the field and was on the brink of giving up when a few doubled back. Hares like to court not just in the same field but the same spot in that field – and that turned out to be just behind me.

I counted 24 bouncing over the horizon towards me, then 32. Hares were coming from all directions. Within 20 minutes 51 were in front of me and I couldn't contain my excitement. Seeing so many together is extremely rare – certainly the most I'd seen in Yorkshire. There must have been at least 20 females in season. Alone on a bleak hill top in the middle of a blizzard all I felt was sheer delight.

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I pushed the freezing wind to the back of my mind until another heavy snow storm and fading light drove me home.

How to repeat this – but this time unseen?

A hide was impractical; I needed to move quickly. Bespoke clothes and camera kit were the answer. For the camera I fashioned a little outfit out of a white dump bag held together with a few cable ties and some string.

This rig-up worked well on the camera and tripod. But my tailoring skills with the same material came unstuck because the snow jacket and trousers rustled noisily when I walked. I had more success with a balaclava made out of a pillowcase and I cunningly swiped our (white) oven gloves from the kitchen.

Then I had a brainwave. What was required was an all-in-one spray suit (in white, of course). The following morning I headed into Yates of Malton and bought myself an XXL suit large enough to go over all my layers of clothes.

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I drove out to the field, with the outfit in the back of the car. I soon located the hares again, but getting myself camouflaged in 18in of snow and a ripping wind was easier said than done. I lay on my back with my boots off trying to control the white spray suit as it tried to fly off in all directions.

I counted the hares: 14 in the group and more on the horizon. I set off after them, confident of my invisibility. Much to my annoyance they spotted me straight away. I realised I was was silhouetted in white against a dark woodland background.

Each time a snowstorm came over I edged closer. Behind me my footprints had already been covered by drifting snow. I spent day after day photographing them, mainly in overcast or blizzard conditions – a marvellous end to my wildlife watching year.

Robert's gallery in Thixendale is open every day up until Christmas Eve, 11am to 4.30pm.

www.RobertEFuller.com

CW 11/12/10