Where have all the black rabbits gone?

Some six or seven years ago, when I was fitter than I am now and undertook a brisk morning walk, it was common to see several black rabbits along my route, but usually they were among others of the normal browngrey shade. I cannot recall the last occasion I noticed a black rabbit in the wild, but when they are seen they always create a lot of interest and speculation.

One favourite theory was that their ancestors had escaped from captivity, but it is equally possible that one rabbit out of a litter might be black, in the same way that black lambs are born to white sheep. I believe it is more likely to see a black wild rabbit than an albino, but some of our off-shore islands manage to produce lots of black rabbits with few of the normal colour.

Of the black ones I have seen, they were handsome creatures with surprisingly shiny jet-black fur, but I can’t recall whether their tails were white. Probably they were. All I remember is that they were in extremely good condition and appeared perfectly at home living among their more normal cousins. I never noticed any segregation between those of differing colours.

Even now it is not clear why some wild rabbits can produce jet-black fur. One theory is that their bodies have an excess of melanin. This is a pigment that varies from dark brown to black, and can appear in the skin, eyes or hair of humans.

An excessive amount can also lead to a darkening of body tissues in animals, which in turn can produce varieties of their natural colour. This might explain those black rabbits.

One theory, for which I have found no confirmation, is that wild black rabbits were originally limited to a single offshore island somewhere along the coast of Scotland, and that a few specimens either escaped or were captured and released on the mainland. Another suggestion is that they came to Britain with the Romans and have bred here ever since, speedily expanding their territory as only rabbits can.

It does not seem, however, that they are restricted to any particular area of the British mainland. Sightings have been reported as far south as Devon and as far north as the Yorkshire Dales, with some indications that, in some districts, their fur is rather more grey than black. But in the specimens I encountered, their fur was a deep shiny and very beautiful jet black.

It follows that if wild rabbits are either black or white, they are very much at risk from predators, which might explain why many never reach adulthood. There is a suggestion that both black and white wild rabbits have been with us for several centuries.

Evidence comes in the form of ancient superstitions, because in Lancashire it has long been regarded unwise to shoot a wild black rabbit and in some rural areas it was the custom, upon going to bed, to shout “Hares” or “Black Rabbits” and when getting up on a morning the shout was “Hares” or “White Rabbits”.

This was supposed to frighten away witches to bring good luck to the caller. In similar vein, some people did (and still do) shout either “Rabbits” or “White Rabbits”

three times on the first day of the month.

It must be done very early in the day to ensure good fortune during the month, but if you shout “Black Rabbits”

instead of “White Rabbits”

there was trouble ahead.

YEARS ago, when I was a lad, there was an old character in our moorland village who persisted in referring to house martins as house builders. If he remembered, or perhaps if he was reminded that it was their wrong name, he would describe them as house swallows.

I never heard him call a house martin by its real name.

I was reminded of this when I came across a small flock of house martins collecting mud from the edges of puddles along our back lane. As most of us know, they mix it with plant fibre and saliva, using it to construct their amazing nests that cling to the walls of houses or outbuildings.

They hang below the eaves as if threatening to fall at any moment. Indeed, some do fall – it’s defective materials, the owners would say, or sloppy workmanship!

Not long ago, one fell from beneath our eaves, but fortunately it was empty.

It landed on the terrace with a plopping sound.

We tend to take this nestbuilding skill for granted but, remembering that a house martin’s plumage is a dark blue-black on its upper parts with pure white beneath, how does it manage to collect mud and construct a nest without soiling its smart clothing? It’s like a bricklayer or garage mechanic working in his dinner jacket and white dress shirt.

The house martin’s building work is achieved by its beak alone – collecting the mud, carrying it, preparing it, placing it in the right place and finishing off to ensure the structure doesn’t fall down. Perhaps that old man mentioned earlier was correct in calling them house builders?

Swallows also collect mud to build their nests, but their under-parts are a soft buff colour that might disguise any faint stains. They have red chins and long forked tails, and so they differ visibly from house martins, whose tails are short but forked.

The easiest way to distinguish a house martin from a swallow is to look for the martin’s white rump. That is very clear in flight. Of the swallow tribe, neither swifts, swallows or sand martins can boast such an identifiable feature.

Furthermore, swallows’ nests do not cling to walls or hang beneath the eaves.

They are usually supported by a ledge, beam or shelf of some kind, often in an open barn, garage or porch; but even so, the swallows don’t appear to get dirty either.

Each year, our local house martins seem to arrive later than most of their colleagues, certainly long after swifts and swallows. It may be that the martins who remain in the south of England arrive there as early as April or May, while in the North we don’t see them until late summer or even September. This year’s visitors arrived towards the end of May, but not before the swallows and swifts.

There have been occasions when our resident house martins have not arrived until September and have promptly started to build nests. Such a late start makes me wonder if any youngsters will be too late to migrate. But they never are, although I must admit I cannot say whether or not they reach their winter homes.

But I am sure they will be sparklingly clean upon arrival.