That time of year

Last night as I was coming back from the shop to the house I noticed a slight flicker of movement on the ground and found a rabbit nest, cleverly hidden in the high grass that I haven't yet had a chance to mow. When I got closer I saw movement behind the one in front and figured that there was at least one other, maybe more.

At dusk, as I ate my supper, Emma stood behind me at the window and I noticed that she was trembling and shivering as if she were having a fit. Looking out I saw Mom Rabbit right under the window and a passel of little ones a bit further out, all jumbled up together. When I cracked the back door to get a picture Mom skiddadled but the babes stuck around for a few seconds before diving back into their hidey-hole. I restricted the dogs to the front yard for their nightly potty duties.

In the morning Emma was desperate to go out the back to investigate, but again I made them go out the front. A little later I went out to find exactly what I expected: an empty nest. Mom had moved the brood as it was getting too much attention.

The nest was well concealed with a small opening, the inside about the size of two softballs, and lined with mommy-fur. I'm sure the babes were comfy and warm therein as even with the almost constant rain we have been having it was totally dry.

It's silly, of course, to try to shield them from the ravages of nature, of which Emma is a part. But I couldn't bring myself not to give them that extra little chance, even though I will be cursing them later as they eat my plants. And it's not even out of the question that one or two of the little dears will find their way into the stew-pot this winter. Such is the life of a rabbit.