It's that time of year. Go forth and multiply. Rabbits are experts at that. Each year I'll find a small hole in the lawn, soft and fuzzy around the edges and I'll know what it is: a rabbit nest. This year the mother rabbit chose the spot where I've planted new grass seed. I suppose the soil was softer there (I dug it to plants the seed and I keep it watered) and she must have thought I had prepared the site especially for her.
So today I'm watering the grass when I see movement. Here comes a baby rabbit running across the lawn. I, in turn, run for my camera.
This one has a beautiful white patch centered atop his head. He was a little shy about having his picture taken but I'm not good with "no" so, at last, he decided to sit still. He is no bigger than my clenched fist. I did not see any brothers or sisters but I'm sure they'll leave the nest in the next day. I always have to be careful with mowing when I know baby rabbits are entering the world here at Pinehaven.
So that you have a better idea of his size, here he is pressed up against the base of our brick steps. Compare him to the size of a single brick and you'll realize how tiny he is.
Other years I've made terrible mistakes when rabbits were being born. Two years ago I mowed across a nest (I didn't even see it) and they became frightened by the noise and popped out of the hole just as the mower passed over. One was killed instantly. Another year I was digging weeds beneath the pines and accidentally dug into a nest, killing another. For a pacifist vegetarian, this truly injures my own heart.
So another year, another spring and Pinehaven grows another crop of rabbits. I'll see them, winter-white, when the snow flies. But I'll think of this hot summer day when they first looked upon this glorious world.