I should be writing, or at the very least blogging the next installment in beginning writing for you, but I'm just sad. I buried a baby rabbit about an hour ago, and it was much harder than it should have been. Ever since Ostara, I've been very aware of the bunny activity in our yard. We had a family visit a lot early spring and I invited them (out loud, during one of our many "I see you, but you're pretending to be stone so I won't make any sudden moves" stare downs) to raise their family in my yard.
Well, they did. I even witnessed the birth. One day when we were grilling out, mama rabbit hopped into the bushes and stayed there a long time. I wouldn't have noticed her, except the nervous papa kept chasing another boy rabbit away... literally running under our feet to keep him from bothering his mate. I told Shawn I thought I saw tiny rabbit ears, and I thought it was a birthing moment, but then I thought: no way. Maybe she was just in heat or something, given how the papa rabbit was acting.
I believed that until I checked the nest a few days later. I knew better than to move the grass aside or otherwise disturb them, but I stuck my finger into the grass covered hole and felt warm, soft, breaths. There were babies there all right.
Today, after gardening in the front -- trying to make order from chaos and plant some day lilies my mother brought, I came around the side of the house to put away my tools and I saw little ears in the grass. This time, I knew it wasn't a happy moment. A little guy lay there, a gaping hole in his side. Otherwise he was perfect... so tiny, so soft. No bugs had gotten to him. His brown eyes glistened almost lifelike. But he was gone.
I suspect a hawk got him, though I'm surprised he wasn't more eaten. Hawks don't usually waste much. You barely find a few feathers when they go after pigeons. After getting my gloves, of course, I picked him up and cradled him in my arms. I usually toss various dead animals into the garbage bin, but I just couldn't do it this time. I dug a deep hole in our back garden and buried the little fellow. Crying the entire time.
Some days are just hard.