There Once Was a Rabbit...
We have a large piece of property,
for city-living.
An acre.
In the Spring it's green
with grass and dandelions
and weeds and wildflowers.
We have an ancient pear tree,
leaning precariously
that still produces
(most years)
amazingly crunchy and sweet
hard little wormy pears.
A mature cherry tree,
that does it's own version
of the same thing.
The squirrels stole almost all the pears last year
before they were ripe.
The year before,
a family of deer came
and ate the eagerly-awaited apples
from our new baby honeycrisp tree.
The rabbits like the dutch clover,
sweet yellow clover,
and the plantain.
They don't bother my parsley,
but I worry about planting basil.
These cute little scoundrels,
everywhere.
I love watching the fat and friendly quail,
and how they raise their families
together as a group for years.
It's because we have an acre,
when everyone else nearby
has 1/6th that... or less.
Because we don't use poisons...
herbicides or pesticides.
Because we don't lay bait for mice/rats...
Because we don't have a dog...
-----
We live on a now-busy road,
but when I grew up here it was quiet.
I had my pick of fields to walk through,
and now its suburban homes and apartment buildings,
as far as the eye can see.
The neighborhood has all the amenities
I could give zero fucks about.
As a child, the regional mall was 5 or 6 miles away...
which felt close.
Now there is a mall, 4x the size...
just down the street.
And a Wal-Mart on the way.
Big Signs
covered in
Brand Names
pass by in straight lines
all the way there.
Fred Meyer.
Krispy Kreme.
Staples.
Big Lots.
Best Buy.
Taco Bell.
Lowe's.
Barnes & Noble.
McDonald's.
Gas station,
after gas station,
after gas station.
So I prefer ignoring that part,
and watching the wild rabbits nibble at dandelions,
and squirrels chasing each other around the trees
in our little oasis of overgrown green and wild field.
About 6 weeks ago,
two new rabbits showed up.
Big rabbits.
Domesticated rabbits.
I haven't seen the small wild rabbits since.
But the domesticated rabbits stole our hearts.
One was white with brown spots,
obviously a domestic breed.
The other was brown with big ears,
also obviously domestic, due to its size.
It was Springtime,
and the chased eachother -
all humping and thumping.
Soon, one dug a burrow.
She let me watch her little white paws
dig and scoot and dig and scoot -
the dirt and rocks around.
She moved probably a cubic yard of dirt
and potato-sized rocks from our tulip garden
in a day.
A couple days later,
it was filled in.
I had to google:
"Do rabbits bury their young?"
"Yes." replied Google.
I'd HAD domesticated rabbits,
but we never let them breed.
The internet taught me,
the mother will dig up the burrow,
to feed her young a couple times a day...
and otherwise forage to build up milk.
I saw both the big rabbits,
lazing.
They let us get so close,
the obviously-female would let us pet her,
if we were slow
and careful.
But the buried burrow seemed,
untouched.
I placed leaves atop it,
it see if it was being re-dug.
Nope.
3 weeks go by,
the white female is gone.
The burrow untouched.
I worry there are bunnies down there,
nothing but fluff and bones.
The dandelions have been going crazy,
the crocuses have been up for weeks,
but are gone now,
along with the violets.
Grape hyacinth everywhere,
and the flowering trees are all abloom...
... but I have seen only one bee.
A red-butted bumble bee
(actually a yellow-headed bumble-bee
if you were to ask a bee taxonomist)
wandering around,
looking rather confused.
Uninterested in flowers
or the water on leaves,
it buzzed in curious circles....
...liking nothing that it saw.
Growing up,
the buzz of Spring and Summer
was a part of the excitement.
So far,
it has been quiet
except for the pattering of passing rainclouds.
Spring 2020 was the first ominous Spring
I'd ever experienced.
We were AFRAID,
together -
and it was palpable.
Spring 2021 was uncertain...
there was hope,
but there was still fear,
and this feeling of
CONTENTION.
What I am saying is,
I wonder if my sad worry
this Spring,
is real,
or a reaction
to the last two years
of sadness
and worry.
If my nostalgia,
for being surrounded by fields
is about the taste of concrete in the air,
and the rumbling noise of now;
or more about the a lost memory
of being surrounded by
an Invitation To Life
which was also noisy -
with its chattering birds and buzzing insects
but which feeds
the soul of Earth herself -
and by proxy,
me and mine.
Packed houses,
with their ultra-green slick lawns,
and multitude of cars,
(The house behind me has AT LEAST 8 cars!)
and the smell of glucosinolate in the air...
... their gas-powered lawnmowers all Summer
and gas-powered leaf-blowers all Autumn...
...I worry about the bunnies,
and the bees...
and what happens
if/when life stops being invited into a neighborhood.
for city-living.
An acre.
In the Spring it's green
with grass and dandelions
and weeds and wildflowers.
We have an ancient pear tree,
leaning precariously
that still produces
(most years)
amazingly crunchy and sweet
hard little wormy pears.
A mature cherry tree,
that does it's own version
of the same thing.
The squirrels stole almost all the pears last year
before they were ripe.
The year before,
a family of deer came
and ate the eagerly-awaited apples
from our new baby honeycrisp tree.
The rabbits like the dutch clover,
sweet yellow clover,
and the plantain.
They don't bother my parsley,
but I worry about planting basil.
These cute little scoundrels,
everywhere.
I love watching the fat and friendly quail,
and how they raise their families
together as a group for years.
It's because we have an acre,
when everyone else nearby
has 1/6th that... or less.
Because we don't use poisons...
herbicides or pesticides.
Because we don't lay bait for mice/rats...
Because we don't have a dog...
-----
We live on a now-busy road,
but when I grew up here it was quiet.
I had my pick of fields to walk through,
and now its suburban homes and apartment buildings,
as far as the eye can see.
The neighborhood has all the amenities
I could give zero fucks about.
As a child, the regional mall was 5 or 6 miles away...
which felt close.
Now there is a mall, 4x the size...
just down the street.
And a Wal-Mart on the way.
Big Signs
covered in
Brand Names
pass by in straight lines
all the way there.
Fred Meyer.
Krispy Kreme.
Staples.
Big Lots.
Best Buy.
Taco Bell.
Lowe's.
Barnes & Noble.
McDonald's.
Gas station,
after gas station,
after gas station.
So I prefer ignoring that part,
and watching the wild rabbits nibble at dandelions,
and squirrels chasing each other around the trees
in our little oasis of overgrown green and wild field.
About 6 weeks ago,
two new rabbits showed up.
Big rabbits.
Domesticated rabbits.
I haven't seen the small wild rabbits since.
But the domesticated rabbits stole our hearts.
One was white with brown spots,
obviously a domestic breed.
The other was brown with big ears,
also obviously domestic, due to its size.
It was Springtime,
and the chased eachother -
all humping and thumping.
Soon, one dug a burrow.
She let me watch her little white paws
dig and scoot and dig and scoot -
the dirt and rocks around.
She moved probably a cubic yard of dirt
and potato-sized rocks from our tulip garden
in a day.
A couple days later,
it was filled in.
I had to google:
"Do rabbits bury their young?"
"Yes." replied Google.
I'd HAD domesticated rabbits,
but we never let them breed.
The internet taught me,
the mother will dig up the burrow,
to feed her young a couple times a day...
and otherwise forage to build up milk.
I saw both the big rabbits,
lazing.
They let us get so close,
the obviously-female would let us pet her,
if we were slow
and careful.
But the buried burrow seemed,
untouched.
I placed leaves atop it,
it see if it was being re-dug.
Nope.
3 weeks go by,
the white female is gone.
The burrow untouched.
I worry there are bunnies down there,
nothing but fluff and bones.
The dandelions have been going crazy,
the crocuses have been up for weeks,
but are gone now,
along with the violets.
Grape hyacinth everywhere,
and the flowering trees are all abloom...
... but I have seen only one bee.
A red-butted bumble bee
(actually a yellow-headed bumble-bee
if you were to ask a bee taxonomist)
wandering around,
looking rather confused.
Uninterested in flowers
or the water on leaves,
it buzzed in curious circles....
...liking nothing that it saw.
Growing up,
the buzz of Spring and Summer
was a part of the excitement.
So far,
it has been quiet
except for the pattering of passing rainclouds.
Spring 2020 was the first ominous Spring
I'd ever experienced.
We were AFRAID,
together -
and it was palpable.
Spring 2021 was uncertain...
there was hope,
but there was still fear,
and this feeling of
CONTENTION.
What I am saying is,
I wonder if my sad worry
this Spring,
is real,
or a reaction
to the last two years
of sadness
and worry.
If my nostalgia,
for being surrounded by fields
is about the taste of concrete in the air,
and the rumbling noise of now;
or more about the a lost memory
of being surrounded by
an Invitation To Life
which was also noisy -
with its chattering birds and buzzing insects
but which feeds
the soul of Earth herself -
and by proxy,
me and mine.
Packed houses,
with their ultra-green slick lawns,
and multitude of cars,
(The house behind me has AT LEAST 8 cars!)
and the smell of glucosinolate in the air...
... their gas-powered lawnmowers all Summer
and gas-powered leaf-blowers all Autumn...
...I worry about the bunnies,
and the bees...
and what happens
if/when life stops being invited into a neighborhood.