Invasion of the Cute

So I’ve been told twice now to stop making my readers cry. Actually, it’s been more like, “If you don’t stop making me cry, I’m going to stop reading what you post.” A far more effective threat to a writer than: “I’m mad at you for provoking a strong emotional response. Stop it.”

Never mind that the tears were for two completely different emotional reactions and there was a giggle or two in between. Still, it never hearts to shift gears once in a while, right?

This afternoon, just before the kids came home from school (I’m on nights this month), I pulled the weed wacker out of the garage and started taking down some serious weeds. At the side of the house, near one of the basement window wells, a rock jumped out of my way, ran a few feet out into the lawn, and doubled back. By the time I put the dangerous weapon down, this is what I found.

Doesn’t look old enough to be away from momma bunny, does it?

I know a little bit about rabbits—we kept them when I was a kid—enough that momma would prefer there wasn’t any human stink on her baby, so I went into the garage and dug up an old cutting board to use for a ramp and left it there for the frightened little creature to use to climb out then moved on to another group of overgrown weeds. Well, yes, I did admire the amount of cute involved first, and took a couple of pictures.

The girls came home and cooed at the baby bunny for a couple of minutes, but pulled away on their own, wanting it to find its way back home. I checked on the little fuzzball about an hour later, prepared with a pair of gloves in case I needed to lift her/him out. This is what I found:

Yeah, not what I was expecting. But I left the ramp in place. Maybe they’d both manage to crawl up the ramp, right? They were still there after dinner, and I know momma had been in the back yard at least two or three times since I’d see the first of the babies; she lives in the little patch of scrub behind our property. So, it was time to take matters into my own gloved hands. Luckily, I had daughters on hand to observe and document the process.

You might have noticed that I commented how the more active hopper wasn’t all that bright. Trying to dodge the glove, she ran head first into the window sill. But she was also the one who kept moving after I put her down. Balance is nice.

Have to call this a good day.

Be well.

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