Madder than a March hare has been a synonym for lunacy, originating from observations by Erasmus (who actually referred to Marsh Hares) and Chaucer who coined the phrase, long before Alice met her little pal in Wonderland.
In some places, March is the breeding season for hares—and it makes them do very strange things.
While I will not go into the exhibitionistic behaviors of breeding hares, I would like to point out that they are not so different from humans.
But humans are always mad with breeding season, eh?
So many things are designed to accommodate and keep us breeding, to keep us crazy with the desire to breed.
We got all manner of 900 numbers, TV commercials, products designed to keep us up and at it, and seductive mating rituals that make us appear cuckoo to the rest of the animal kingdom (except Bonobo monkeys—they don’t think we’re crazy at all in comparison).
We dance, we sweet talk, we puff out our chests, strut our stuff, risk our lives, and beckon to each other with the call of the Sirens to get crazy with love so we can make more crazy humans and keep the species goin’.
But, again, unlike hares, our mad season lasts all year long.
Well, we can’t keep dancing for 365 days at a time—that’s exhausting.
So we got clever and created romance to give us a break from the physical exercise.
Romance allows us to just sit still and think about mating for a while before we have to put bodily energy into it.
Romance allows us to bask in the afterglow, daydream, write poetry and songs, send flowers, straighten out our clothing and walk, out of the airplane bathroom, back to our seats like nothing ever happened.
Romance allows us to regenerate afterward and gives us a gradient sanity prior to going mad.
The March Hare has no such allowance. It’s all or nothing.
This is March.
Watch out for crazy bunnies running through the streets, hiding things under their raincoats!
This makes me very suspicious of the Easter Bunny!