Tuesday, June 29, 2010

You have got to be kidding me.

This is going to be hard for a few of you to read, Mom and Jay, you know who you are.

So, my 7 year old wants to go swimming. It is 6:30 pm. Dinner was served, eaten, and has been half cleaned up. My toddler says, “Wimming.,” and points to the door. Two against one. We get suited-up and swim.

Background information: we have a momma rabbit and babies in our gated pool area. We are diligent to keep our dog out of the pool area for the time being. Let’s just say that in the past we’ve had a situation involving the dog and a nest full of baby bunnies that did not end well. We have a dharma to play out. That being said, we love the idea of these precious little bunnies growing safely in our yard. Now back to my story.

All is well in the pool. Then, I hear it. That familiar noise of a screaming baby bunny. I think, oh....the momma must be back, and the babies must be happy to see her. This is not the case. I hear the scream getting louder and louder. How strange, I’m thinking. I’m looking over at the nest area, hidden under a swinging bench. Then, I see it. A snake is dragging a baby bunny away from the nest. I don’t want to be too graphic, on account of me being scarred for life and I don’t think it is necessary for you to be as well. It is not looking good. The bunny is a little bigger than my thumb and the snake is about as thick as my pinky finger and about 2 and a half feet long. My 7 year old is pleading to go in the house because she can’t take it anymore. I want a shovel. A good friend said it best, “The circle of life ends with screaming baby bunnies.” I couldn’t have agreed with her more. I go in to get a shovel and my husband. We head back out and the snake is gone. We can still hear the baby crying. Unbelievably, we find it in a dense bush and use a trusty hockey stick to pick it up and return the baby home to its burrow.

Looking back at the bigger picture, I am able to see that the snake is just trying to grow big and strong to have a family of his own. Blah, blah, blah, whatever. This morning the momma and I saw eye-to-eye, through the kitchen window, over a sink of bottomless dishes. I’ve got your back, momma.

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