Kiddo#2, as only she can, found a nest of baby rabbits in our front lawn. In a hollow about the size of a grapefruit, covered over only with some dry grass and clumps of white rabbit fur, were a jumble of bunny feet, bellies, noses and ears.
I did the only thing a reasonable human would do in that situation and pretended it hadn’t happened.
Actually, what I did was look up wild rabbit babies on the web in order to learn the best possible thing I could do for them, and I was thrilled (more than thrilled) to discover the absolute best thing to do for wild baby rabbits is to leave them the heck alone. Apparently their mothers do scoop out shallow holes, birth their babies in there, and come back only at dawn and dusk to nurse them. Totally normal.
I would not, thank heaven, be spending the next two weeks getting up every hour to nurse baby bunnies with an eye-dropper. Life was good.
I couldn’t leave them entirely alone, however, because the nice man who comes through our lawn with a mower once a week would probably not be a good combination with a nest of rabbit babies. Out into the lawn I went with a bunch of stakes and bricks, and I cordoned off four feet around the hole.
This was too much for Momma Rabbit, I guess, because two days later, she’d moved the babies to another, less human-wrought location. Fine by me. Rabbits in the woods = no rabbits in the mower blades.
On Friday, I noticed our ex-wild-cat Jerina sitting at the front door, Very Very Interested. About an hour later, Kiddo#2 again made a discovery: Jerina had found a baby rabbit.
Palm-sized but clearly old enough to be on his own, this rabbit spent his time nibbling the grass alongside our walkway, listening to everything and being cute.
Jerina mewed in a way that only translates as, “I remember those are tasty, and if you let me outside, I’ll get it. I mean, bring it back for us. For you. I’ll bring it to you. Right.”
We’ve seen it since then often enough for me to believe it’s living under the network of bushes alongside the house.
Although I had no desire to feed the infant bunnies, this guy makes me want to leave piles of carrot shavings beneath his favorite bush. There are a thousand reasons not to feed a wild animal. The only one reason for me TO feed it is “I wanna.” But I’m being good. I haven’t fed him so far.
I got a couple of pictures, and if they’re not too blurry, I’ll post them when I get a chance. He’s just too cute. Even if he’s eating my pansies, he’s just too cute.
Sunday during discussion of Camp Rules: Oh, there are skunks in the area. Make sure you hold a plate under your food so no yummy drippings get on the ground.
Monday during Jr Leader hour off: Just letting you know — no emergency, just stuff you should know for when your hour is up — your kids are on the beach. They were terrified of the skunk, so the adult evacuated them. (I knew those leaders. They didn’t suggest the evacuation, but knew better than to keep terrified kids in tents.)
Tuesday morning: “And they walked all over the path between the cooking pits and the table, eating everything that had dropped, even tiny droplets!”
Tuesday through Thursday: Very easy to keep the food where it was supposed to be.
Thursday evening: “Oooh, look! Hand me that slice of bread. Here, skunky, skunky. Yummy bread!”
Here in Maryland we have had many generations of rabbits in our yard. They are the brown cottontail kind and when they sit back on their hind legs they look just like a chocolate Easter bunny. Yesterday it was 98 degrees here and one rabbit came close to our back deck and stretched out flat on his tummy, with his rear legs twisted around so that the bottom of his tummy was upwards and the front of his tummy was downward. Picture a licorice twist and you have the idea. He was so still I thought at first that he was dead, but finally he moved his head. He remained still even when I went outside and opened the garage.
One negative, we cannot grow sunflowers because the rabbits nip then off as soon as they reach six inches tall.
They leave the kwak grass and crab grass alone though.
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