In the thinnest design of things, rabbits exist as the hunted rather than the hunters. Nibblers of grasses and leaves, they are at times blissfully unaware and at other times all too aware that sharp eyes seek them.
Here in my continental
north setting, rabbits appear on the menu for mountain lions, coyotes, foxes,
domestic dogs and cats, and a come-and-go variety of birds of prey. To thrive,
they rely on (hopefully) quick escapes and reproducing at a highly accelerated
rate.
For rabbits, the end
can be grim. Yesterday, while walking near the yet-frozen lakeshore, I found a
spot on the sunny side of our pavilion where a predator of some kind had
savaged a rabbit. For those of us purchasing our protein in squared,
shrink-wrapped packages and perfectly sealed cans, the sight of tufts of downy
fur and an implied violent end is sobering at a minimum.
I removed a glove and
flung it down alongside the scattered fur before taking the photograph I am
sharing here today.
—Mitchell Hegman
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