Kathy and I have been following the progress of a litter (?) of five baby bunnies, whose den is located right in the middle of our front yard.  After a harrowing experience two weeks ago,  when Ellie found the nest and had three of the babies in her mouth and only reluctantly gave them up,  we have been painstakingly guarding their nest.  Having been advised once before that mother rabbits feed their youngsters only at night,  we have been placing a plastic crate over the nest during the day, so there would be no chance of either of our dogs getting in there.  At some point each evening,  one of us would remove the crate so the bunnies could be fed.  And every few days,  one of us would sneak a brief peek- and judging by their growth,  they have been getting plenty of meals. There have been slip ups, like the day that Aspen Lawn Care came to mow our lawn and moved the crate rather than mowing around it (we probably should have taped a note to it:  Please Do Not Remove-  Baby Bunnies Inside!).  That actually has happened twice, but the bunnies seemed to survive all of that excitement just fine.

Yesterday when I got home just after noon,  I went to check on the nest for the first time in a couple of days, to make sure things were still okay – and when I gently began brushing back the grass blades capping the nest,  imagine my surprise when a beautifully formed baby bunny suddenly leapt out of the nest and on to the grass!   It was perfectly proportioned, very much like an adult, except incredibly tiny.  It was an amazing sight- and all I could think about was “were you in our dog’s mouth about two weeks ago?  If you were,  you’ve made an amazing comeback, little one!”   And yesterday evening,  when Kathy and I got back from dinner with friends,  i brought her over to take a careful little peek – and before we knew it,  two of the little darlings were scampering around the yard –  and they were fast!   Maybe not as fast as a full-grown adult rabbit,  but certainly faster than you would expect such tiny bunnies to be.  In fact, one of them took off towards the house and ended up under our Hostas, while the other one seemed more interesting in the blooming flowers in our landscaping.  We went inside, delighted to have seen such a sight,  and were careful to put the dogs out in our fenced-in side yard, just so they wouldn’t happen to stumble on a little bunny and be tempted to “play.”  And at that point, I ran upstairs to throw on another shirt so I could run to Razor Sharp for some much needed fun on the treadmill.

It was maybe three or four minutes later,  just as I was getting ready to leave,  that Kathy suddenly yelled “there’s Ellie!”  And sure enough,  Ellie was nonchalantly strolling through our backyard.  It took a couple seconds for me to understand her alarm.  The dogs were out in the yard. . .  O my God!  The bunnies!!!!   I grabbed the bag of our very best treats and managed to draw Ellie back into the house with no trouble.  I called for Bobbi, who was nowhere to be seen.  No luck.  I went running to the side door of the house,  and there was one of the two gates to our fenced in yard, standing wide open.  (Maybe it was left only partly latched when the lawn care guys were here.)  No sign of Bobbi.    I ran to the front door as fast as my legs would carry me, and just as I stepped through the front door I heard some sort of strange squealing sound, almost like a bird.   But I knew it was no bird- and as soon as I saw the flash of Bobbi’s tail through the bushes at the front corner of our house,  I had a bad feeling.  A very very bad feeling.

I ran back through the house,  and as I brushed past Kathy I said something like “I think it’s bad.  I think it’s bad” but just kept running until I was at the back door and out into the yard.   And there was Bobbi,  with something in her mouth – and then the squealing resumed.  It was like nothing I have ever heard before – sort of like the whistling of a tea kettle, except that you could tell that this was the cry of a living creature – either terrified or in pain.  And it was locked in the jaws of one of our golden retrievers.

Kathy and I were both out there,  pouring out steak-like dog treats on to the ground right in front of her and sternly ordering her to leave it.  LEAVE IT!!!   No luck.  Bobbi was not about to give this up, and when we encroached further, she took off for the front yard.   And by the time we reached the front yard,  the squealing had stopped –  which was sort of a relief but awful all the same, because we feared the worst:  that this bunny’s life had been inadvertently snuffed out in Bobbi’s jaws.

Eventually we were able to corner Bobbi by the cars, and Kathy actually managed to grab her –  I can’t imagine how.  But then came the problem of getting this unfortunate bunny out of her jaws.  I still had the bag of steak treats, and was again pouring them out in front of Bobbi,  who barely gave them a glance.  Whatever she had in her mouth was much more interesting than any treat.   And our repeated orders to Leave It were completely ignored.  Eventually we had no choice but to force the matter, grabbing hold of Bobbi even more firmly, and eventually forcing her jaws open.  This is when we heard another squeal, a bit fainter than the early ones,  but it meant that the bunny  – incredibly – was still alive.  I am so proud of Kathy for staying put as we finished the job of getting this bunny out of Bobbi’s mouth and safely into the grass.  Unfortunately,  we could tell that one and maybe both of its back legs were injured, and it was only able to get around by pulling itself forward by its front paws.   We knew there was no way it could survive for long in the wild.  Heads reeling,  we had to figure out what to do – but by the time I had returned to the front yard with paper towels and a plastic shovel,  the bunny had somehow managed to crawl all the way to edge of our ravine.   I decided at that point that rather than transporting it to the grassy area across the street and letting nature take its course, this bunny had earned the right to determine its own destiny,  and I left it where it was,  perched on the precipice of our ravine,  until it bravely moved on and out of sight.

This was not a drama we were expecting or wanting – and it was really hard to calm down after that.  And it was incredibly hard not to wring Bobbi’s neck –  not so much for going after the bunny.  That was just instinct.  But Bobbi’s complete disregard for our commands – that’s what made us so mad.   I climbed into bed that night – and I suspect Kathy did, too – thinking about that terrible, heartrending sound from the bunny – and about that look in Bobbi’s eyes that seemed to say to us  “you’re not the boss.”  The first thing we can’t do anything about now.  The second thing we can, I hope.

But I awoke today thinking about something else- and as I type these words I haven’t even had a chance to share them with Kathy directly.  The thought is this: for as terrible as those few minutes were,  I felt so incredibly close to Kathy.   It’s like we we were partners – comrades in some high-stakes rescue operation.   Nothing else in the world mattered in those few minutes except the little creature trapped in Bobbi’s jaws.  And neither of us was going anywhere until we had done something about it, no matter how awful it got,  no matter how squeamish we might feel.  It felt so great to be working together, and that’s what it’s all about.  And as it turned out,  that bunny did its part as well by hanging on for dear life, somehow.

There are a couple of things in my life right now that have me feeling just a bit bewildered or unsettled.   Changes at Carthage, with a new president taking over from a predecessor who had been there 25 years.  Changes at Holy Communion as well with a new pastor to whom we extended a call this past Sunday- – – and in both of these cases,  these were ready-or-not changes in which I felt a little bit out of the loop and not fully prepared for them.  And on top of all that,  we are about to embark on some fairly major renovations in our home.   Hopeful? Excited?  You bet.  But also a little bewildered and disconcerted. (I love that word.)   But in honor of our runaway bunny,  who was taken for what I’m sure was a terrifying and entirely unwanted ride around our yard,  I am embracing the changes in a spirit of expectation.  If that little bunny can weather its wild ride as well as it did,  I can too – especially knowing that I’m not alone.   I have one heck of a partner.

pictured above:  This is one of the bunnies who escaped its den and was running around our yard.  Whether or not this is the bunny who ended up with Bobbi is impossible to know.    If you look closely at the photo and realize that the grass isn’t all that long,  it gives you a good sense of how tiny this bunny was.