We have a bunny in our yard. Not positive where he/she/it came from. Not sure what he/she/it is, so I will call it "it" when referring to gender.
It most likely belongs to the neighbor across the road. I'm sure it is a domesticated bunny. It is a little bit afraid of me, but not really...just wary. It seems to have a Ronald Reagan kind of policy. "Trust, but verify."
It/ he is sure cute. I like the little rascal and he has personality. Maybe "he" would be better for the pronouns. He definitely isn't an "it".
He has been here since summer, I believe. I really have been meaning to call the neighbors to ask if they have lost a rabbit; but I have bothered them so much about their animals in the past, I almost hate to call them again. Let's see; we have had in our yard, their horse, their cow, their dog, their cat, their turkeys; and most recently their pig. I think that is about all, so far...and now we have their bunny. I hate to say these animals are all from the same neighbor, but.....
I like my neighbors, anyway.
I am not taking care of this rabbit. I don't know the first thing about taking care of rabbits and I don't want a rabbit. Matt says he is pretty sure the little guy is also returning home now and then and that I shouldn't worry about him. Mr. B. says: "They are wild animals after all; they know how to take care of themselves." I agree.
Lately, I have noticed the little guy has been leaving little traces around the horse trough. I think perhaps he is getting a drink there. I don't know how he is getting over there, though. We have a tall fence, and I didn't know they could jump that high.
Bullet, the beagle, has been spending more and more time outside at night. I didn't know why. Usually he is an in and out kind of dog - especially in the winter. He hales from Texas after all; he is a southern boy to the core. Last night, though, I finally figured out why Bullet has been slow to come in from outside when he goes. The little bunny has been in the yard.
My lab is the one who noticed the rabbit first, last night. She caused such a commotion I went outside to see what was going on. My lab was giving Mr. Rabbit a run for his money.
Now my lab is the most obedient being (animal, human or other) this side of heaven. And when I called her to stop chasing the bunny, she stopped. She just looked at me like "Really, Mom? Do you know what is out there?" But she stopped and stayed. The bunny stopped, too. He sat by the tree and just watched us. Silly rabbit! The lab looked at me, then looked at the bunny, then back at me. "Please!" she begged. (Yes, she did to say that.)
Bullet also had to come out and see what all the commotion was. I didn't want to let him out, but he was carrying on so, I almost had no choice. Plus I figured the little bunny could run, and maybe he/it wouldn't come back and would run away home.
Now, Bullet is a hunting dog. He comes from prime hunting stock. His ancestors have names like "Wilson's Rabbit Tracker" and "Roscoes Red Sawdof Browning Shotgun". I thought for sure, he would smell that rabbit and head out "on hunt", as we used to call it when he would transform into hunting mode.
Didn't work that way. The lab remained obedient, the bunny remained "Reaganesque" and Bullet missed it all. He simply wandered out a ways, did his business, and headed back to the porch. Well, he is getting older, after all. And it was dark out. The lab wasn't chasing or barking anymore; there couldn't be too much going on out here. There are lots and lots of reasons why the beagle missed his chance to hunt. The younger beagle would have been so disappointed in the older beagle. The bunny won.
I brought both dogs back into the house. If the little bunny was after water, I wanted him to be able to get it. I really don't want anything to happen to him. He has survived this long; I am not going to play a part in his demise.
I felt bad for the beagle; I was proud of the lab...and I'm still shaking my head over that troublesome, silly wabbit.
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment