You don't have to go far to experience countless examples of mother nature at her absolute 'springy' finest at the moment

That louder dawn chorus drifting through an open window; a familiar tree in a park that now sports more than a faint blush of green; dormant bushes transformed into a riot of white or pink blossom; the leaves of the bluebells now standing proud above a carpet of leaf litter, the flowers only weeks away.

It might be easy to take this collection of quotidian wonders for granted, but that would be a mistake.

We are now witnessing nothing less than the death of winter itself and the birth of its eager successor, spring.

To our ancestors, winter was a fearful and dangerous time, full of challenge, and spring could not come quickly enough. It literally was a matter of life and death.

They too could read the hopeful signs, like we do, but superstition and bitter experience prevented them from taking its arrival for granted, despite the burgeoning evidence.

They were beholden to capricious gods, who could be easily angered, and what these deities gave they could also take away.

It should be no surprise then that we are currently in the middle of a positive frenzy of festivals, saints days and holidays that mark the changing of these seasons.

And although many of these celebrations fall on different days and acknowledge different gods, there are several recurrent themes: fertility; birth, rebirth; hope, regeneration; resurrection and light.

By the acknowledgement of tradition, observance of customs, obeyance of rituals, saying of prayers, singing of incantations and the placing of votive offerings at shrines, adherents hope that the gods could hopefully be satisfied and a warm, safe spring would follow.

And if given the choice, who wouldn't choose to do something- anything- that brought about spring sooner?

Later this month (March 20) we will experience a milestone that our ancestors would have no doubt been praying for: the spring or 'vernal' equinox and the official start of 'astronomical spring'.

This is the day when the gradually increasing daylight hours finally catch-up with those of the night and a moment of balance and equilibrium is struck: from then on, the light starts to win and the days will get longer and longer.

The spring equinox also marks the halfway point between the winter solstice and the summer solstice when we lucky souls in the northern hemisphere will enjoy more than 16 hours of daylight.

The Celts and Saxons, amongst others, refer to the spring equinox as 'Sabat Ostara', named after the Germanic goddess Ostara or Eostre.

The Christian spring festival of rebirth, Easter, also derives its name from this goddess, as does eostrogen, the hormone essential to women's fertility. Her influence on humanity is both powerful and long lasting.

Although all of the signs of spring- some of the most common of which we referred to above- are natural and joyous, I would now like to direct our gaze towards yet another harbinger that can be equally close to home but is steeped in far more mysterious forms of seasonal magic.

And some say that it is actually the Goddess Ostara herself in a shape-shifting form.

We are very lucky to have a fairly healthy population of the brown hare (Lepus capensis) in our area and although mainly active at night- when legend suggests it stares at and is governed by the moon- the month of March gives us all the perfect opportunity to see it out and about in local fields during daylight hours.

With its excellent hearing, keen sense of smell and all-round vision, your view is likely to be fleeting, however, as it knew you were coming well before you saw it.

This hyper-awareness of its surroundings and its neutral colours- brown fur, black tipped ears and white tail underparts- are both a good start in helping it avoid any trouble. However, this noble rodent has a further ace up its furry sleeve: speed.

At its fastest the hare can reach speeds of 70 kph (43 mph), so just imagine the impact of this spectacle on ancient man: they wouldn't have seen anything else move quite so quickly in their lives.

And now is the perfect time to see them, not only resting and running about after one another but occasionally pausing to 'box' too, when the feisty females- known as does or jills- stand on their long hind legs and batter the over-enthusiastic jacks.

It is this collection of unusually extrovert behaviours from such a usually shy creature that has spawned the phrase 'mad as a March hare'.

The result of all this friskiness could be four to six leverets some 40 days later, but there will be no safe rabbit-style burrow for this brood- just a crude scrape in the ground to call home.

But they don't hang about; the young will be active in just an hour and fully independent shortly afterwards.

The curious lifestyle of the hare has made it the subject of many legends and it is a recurring motif in European myth and folklore.

The hare's shapeshifting powers aren't just limited to occasionally appearing as Ostara. In one ancient tale the beast started life as a bird, before being turned into the shape we know today by the Goddess herself. She did allow it to retain one remnant of its previous existence and was allowed to lay one egg at this time of the year. That's at Easter, coincidentally.

So, enjoy all the wonders of this wonderful time of the year and especially look out for this most mystical beast when you are on your wanders. They are out there, and I have seen several recently, both crouching and running, but not yet boxing.

But before we go it is worth considering how the near magical alure of the brown hare has permeated popular culture: It's more present than you might think.

The noble greyhound, a super-fast dog bred especially to match the hare's speed; the bizarre electric representation of a fleeing hare that these dogs are happy to chase round a track, but which still wins the race every time; 'Masquerade', the 1979 book by artist Kit Williams that included clues to the whereabouts of a buried 18 carat golden hare; Hartley the Hare from Pipkins; German artist Albrecht Dürer's staggering 1502 watercolour 'Feldhase'- surely the best rodent portrait ever; a Hertfordshire village and a Roman road named 'Hare Street' only 10 miles away; the 'hear hare here' note left by the farmer in 'Withnail and I'…

We could go on. There are hares - magical or otherwise- all around us.

And finally, considering everything we have just discussed, where do you think the myth of the Easter Bunny came from?

Take a bow, oh noble brown hare.