In November, Gunnar introduced me to hare hunting. All arrangements had, he said, been made by Herr Ole Dahl and Herr Bernt Backe. We would spend the night as the guests of Herr Brovold in his comfortable farm in Tydal where beds, food and plenty of drink had been laid on. The next day, with a borrowed harehund, we would hunt the white mountain hare after the Norwegian fashion.
Before our departure, Gunnar explained briefly to me the lore of hare hunting in Norway. On arrival at the rendezvous, usually a precipitous mountain slope shaggy with spruce, the is released. The hunters drink a noggin of warming schnapps while waiting for the dog to give tongue. On this
