A Tragic Interruption to the Day. And Cute Bunnies.

It was simply awful and heart wrenching. It was tragic. We had the first mowing on our property today. We don't own a mower. To mow 5+ acres would require a 4-figure mower that turns on a dime. We have a guy who mows for us. He sometimes dresses up like a pirate, but that's taking me off topic.

So the mower guy has been busy and our grass has grown with all the rain of the season, and it was pretty tall in some patches when his brother came by to take care of the lawn business. With his big mower, it wouldn't take much more than an hour. Perfect, I thought, it was a beautiful afternoon, the sun was shining, it was pleasantly warm, and my studio windows were wide open. Twilight was playing and I was highly productive.

And then there was a soft knock on my door and the mower came in holding a very small bunny in his hands.

As sweet and gentle as that little bunny was, the story is just as tragic. Mother bunny and several siblings were lost to the mower today. What to do, what to do! How old was it? Could it eat on it's own? Wow, it was precious!

And then another bunny came to me. A sibling. A pair. Just too sweet and adorable for words. And not a responsibility I was prepared to accept. With a recuperating dog, and a 14 hour work schedule, how was I to work feedings for 2 little bunnies every 2 hours into my schedule?

I took the bunnies to the vet who volunteered to euthanize them. I left, bunnies in tow, to retrieve my daughter from school. I paraded the bunnies in the pick-up line, flaunting their cuteness, to no avail. Everyone loved them. No one wanted them. We then headed to the Tractor Supply Co. resigned to the challenge of trying to save the two bunnies on my own. With the promise of help from my 10 year old daughter, of course, who by that point had named them Daisy and Dandy.

To end this saga abruptly, because I have to go put more glass in the kiln, my plan was to pick up the formula for nursing bunnies, along with the smallest bottle feeder I could find, and with my fingers crossed, and lots of begging to a greater power, the hope of stumbling into path of someone more knowledgeable than your average suburbanite (me) who would scoop the bunnies up and take them home.

Luck was smiling on those bunnies, after all. At the local Tractor Supply Co., I found a rabbit enthusiast who was expecting a nest of rabbits at any moment. She generously offered to take the babies off my hands (about 3 weeks old, I learned), with hopes of convincing her mama rabbit to nurse them along with her own. And I will be able to sleep through the night believing those two little bunnies will have a fighting chance at survival. The happiest of endings for a very tragic afternoon.