Of our two dogs, Ellie is the gentle soul while Bobbi tends to be a brash little brat. Ellie is almost always obedient while Bobbi is much more headstrong. Ellie is our graceful dancer while Bobbi is endearingly clumsy. They also hang out differently, with Ellie preferring the comfort of the couch or right out in the middle of the family room, while Bobbi much prefers to lie right against one of the walls, or right next to one of the doors.
There’s one more distinction between them, and frankly I’d forgotten all about it until this afternoon. . . but after today’s adventure, I’ll never forget it. Bobbi is from show dog stock, so she tends to walk around with her tail up in the air, proud as a peacock. And when we go to the dog park, Bobbi will invariably climb up on one of the picnic tables at least once, as though she’s on one of those display stands at a dog show, preening for the cameras. Ellie, by contrast, comes from hunting stock, which she almost never gets to display or demonstrate.
But she did today.
I was racing around the house late this afternoon, tidying up before our evening dinner guests arrived. (Kathy was attending the Racine Theater Guild’s 4:00 matinee, so I was home alone with the dogs.) At one point I let them out into the yard, and while Bobbi almost immediately was back on the stoop, ready to be let back in, Ellie was nowhere to be seen. . . which is not a surprise. Ellie almost always finds more to do outside than Bobbi does. But today, Ellie was really taking her time, which made it seem like she must be getting into some first-class mischief. . . which usually means that she’s digging a lovely hole or shredding one of the stray hamburger wrappers that is so often blowing around our yard. (Probably having fallen out of someone’s car, although I can’t imagine whose.) Just as I was about to interrupt my cleaning to go outside, find her and haul her back inside, she suddenly appeared on the patio, walking very slowly towards the patio door . . .with something in her mouth. It wasn’t until she was right up on the stoop, staring at me, that I could tell what it was. At first glance, it looked like a bird’s nest, but then I noticed the tufts of gray fur.
Ellie had found a rabbit’s nest.
And I could tell that she was not about to let this out of her mouth. Not without a fight.
Ellie stood at the patio door for quite some time, clearly anxious to bring this treasure into the house – probably to present it to me proudly – and maybe to establish herself once and for all as the supreme hunter in the household. And with company coming, this was the last thing I needed brought into the house. So I left her waiting outside on the patio while I’ll snuck outside by another way- but the moment Ellie saw me coming from the side of the house, she took off the other way. . . not in a mad dash, but at an energetic trot- just a little bit quicker than normal. As I followed her to the front of the house, I spied a strange looking clump right in the middle of the front yard – clumps of grass and clumps of very fine gray fur – and in a few moments, I had discovered the little hole where a tiny baby rabbit was nestled. Were his/her siblings in Ellie’s mouth?
I followed in hot pursuit (in more ways than one) and tried every tone of voice I could, from stern and authoritative (my opera voice) to gentle and soothing to laughing and playful . . . all to no avail. Finally, I went back into the house and fetched some paper towels as well some of the most delicious treats we had on hand, because if anything speaks powerfully and persuasively to Ellie, it’s something delicious. (She and I are alike in that way.) She looked warily yet longingly at the little miniature t-bone steak in my hand, and then dipped her head, opened her jaws and let whatever was in her mouth drop to the ground.
It was the remains of the nest- and two baby rabbits. One was lying absolutely still – but the other one was squirming and stretching and doing its best to claw itself back to the comfort of its nest, and Ellie seemed very interested in scooping it right up again. Desperately, I dumped the rest of the dog treats on the hood of Kathy’s car and placed the empty dog treat container over the wriggling newborn bunny. And as I did it, I marveled how life hangs on so tenaciously even in the face of such a cataclysm. And that’s why I turned to the other little bunny, still lying on the sidewalk, apparently dead – and gave it a little nudge. There was a twitch, but was it some sort of involuntary muscular reaction? I gave it another little nudge and it began wriggling like its sibling.
Life fights on.
As quickly yet gently as I could, I scooped up each newborn bunny with a cushioned glove of paper towels and brought them back to what remained of their little nest – and thought that my work was done. That’s when I realized that something was still in Ellie’s mouth – not that I could see whatever it was, but I could tell that her mouth was not completely closed. I went to the hood of the car to grab a couple more treats (I hadn’t yet given her any), hoping that a handful of fake steak would hasten her to give up what was still in her mouth. And sure enough, a few moments later, she dipped her head a bit and allowed a third newborn bunny to slip out of her mouth and on to the pavement of the driveway. It was both a horrendous and wondrous sight- horrendous in that I couldn’t imagine that such a fragile and utterly defenseless thing could still be alive after all that . . . and then wondrous when I saw the tiny bunny wriggling even more vigorously than the first two.
I realized Ellie was still VERY interested in this bunny, so I shepherded her into the house with the treats, then rushed back to the third and final newborn bunny and scooped it up to return to the nest- only to realize that one of the fifrst bunnies had somehow managed to crawl out of the nest and was back out on the grass in plain sight.
Life fights on.
As gently as I could, I eased all of the newborn bunnies back into the hole in what I hoped was some rough semblance of where they had been before Ellie had come along and rent their world asunder. I even replaced the uprooted grass that had been covering the hole, in the hopes that I had bought these rabbits at least a fighting chance of surviving. . . and living to munch on someone’s vegetables someday.
After all that, I had to suspend my cleaning activities and take a shower – not so much to wash off my sweat (although I certainly did that) as to clear my head and to try and process the unexpected drama which had just played out on our front sidewalk and driveway. . . and marveled that while something drove Ellie to dig down into that rabbit’s nest, something else kept her from clamping down her jaws and snuffing out the life of those helpless baby bunnies in her mouth. (To quote Tennessee Williams, talk about relying on the kindness of strangers!) Of course, I have no illusions that these bunnies have long lives stretching out in front of them. For all I know, the trauma they just experienced may be too much for them. . . or the nest may have been so profoundly disturbed that the mama rabbit will not return. . . or something else like a coyote or fox will come along with less gentle jaws and much more sinister intentions.
But for now, life fights on.
pictured above: Ellie as she appeared when she first walked up to the patio door. At this point, I did not yet know what all was in her mouth. . . nor had I figured out how the heck I was going to get whatever it was out of there. I look at this photo and that feeling of intense worry washes over me all over again.
If you are a young person, you might not catch the pun of “Ella May Clamp It” because you don’t know the classic TV comedy “The Beverly Hillbillies.” One of the four members of the central family on that show was Ellie Mae Clampett. Now you know where the blog title come from.