The Year of the Hare

Sometimes conceiving an affection for an animal is easier than for a human.

Anyone could live this life, he reflected, provided they had the sense to give up the other way of life.

It is hard to teach an old dog to sit, as well as it is difficult to teach an old Laplandian rafter to swim.

When, that evening, Vatanen slowly ski’d back from Vittumainen Ghyll to Laahkima Gorge, accompanied by his hare, he no longer thought about Kaartinen’s strange world. There was a half-moon, and the stars were glimmering faintly in the frozen evening. He had his own world, this one, and it was fine to be here, living alone in one’s own way. The hare ambled silently along the trail ahead of the skier, like a pathfinder. Vatanen sang to it.

She began to cry. “Cry quicker, or the call’ll get too expensive.

No need for marketing experts to tell journalists like these what stories the publisher expected. The stories were churned out. The magazine succeeded, but not by transmitting information. By diluting it. Muffling its significance. Cooking it into chatty entertainment. What a profession.

Loving animals can be a heavy load

He had his own world, this one, and it was fine to be here, living alone, in his own way.

The work was heavy, but Vatanen liked that. He knew he was getting stronger, and he wasn’t weighed down by the thought of having to do this work till the end of his life.

The hare was following the interchange; it appeared to nod during Vatanen’s words.