The Country Bunny

Check out this bunny's sweet golden boots (they give her super powers.)

Yesterday, we celebrated Easter, and all the growth and fresh life it brings.  Following the festivities, while readying the yard for spring, I uncovered a nest full of baby bunnies.  Clark was playing with the neighbor girls across the street, so I called them over to show them.  Big mistake.  Half of the tiny bunnies scattered every which way; it was pandemonium.  The youngest girl, Brianna, put her hands to her cheeks and declared official disaster.  Before a traumatic childhood memory could ensue and make a bad situation worse, I gathered my wits and said firmly, "Everybody, stop," at which point, everybody stopped.  I scanned the yard and saw four baby bunnies hopping, each in their own direction.

"Clark, sit on the swing.  Girls, I'm going to send each of you after a rabbit.  Don't go til I give the word... Brianna!... I know you're excited, but you have stay calm.  Walk slowly, and only speak in a low voice if you must, we don't want to frighten them.  Lydia will get the one by the stairs; Laura, there's one next to the basement window; Brianna... Brianna, where are you going?  Brianna, there's one at the base of those daffodils.  Do you all see where your bunnies are?"

"Lydia goes first, scoop the bunny up from underneath using both hands," I said, demonstrating as I retrieved the first one from under the freestanding porch-swing in our back yard, "and once you have him, hold him gently between your two hands without squeezing.  That's good, Lydia, show your sisters how you're holding him.  Now Laura... good!  And Brianna.... slowly now... good. Come sit on the porch swing with me for a minute, and we'll rock them to sleep so we can get them back into the nest without everyone scattering again."

The four of us sat on my porch swing, and Lydia told me about her Baptism the previous Friday.  We talked about the traditional Indian dinner we had had at our neighbor's for their daughter's fourth birthday the night before, and how delicious it had been.  I told them everything I knew about baby bunnies, and that I had raised three that wandered from their nest, and gotten lost when I had been Lydia's age (about 11).  The girls were fascinated as I told them about getting up in the middle of the night to feed them kitten formula with an eyedropper, and how I brought Mars, Snickers, and Butterfinger to school every day so I could stay in from recess and feed them. They thought it was sad that the bunnies' mommy was only with them for five minutes a day, until I told them it was so predators couldn't find them.  

Before long, each child held a tiny, sleeping baby bunny.  I gently prodded the clover in front of the nest then situated myself next to it.  I opened the woven straw and rabbit fur that served as a lid, and gestured to keep silent as I waved each of the children over in turn, gently returning the sleeping babies to their home, letting Clark carry over the last.  As I tucked the precious new ones in, to await their mother's return, I realized how we had all grown, and exceeded what we thought ourselves and each other capable of.