No Name
Deborah Krulwich
©
Copyright 2024 by Deborah Krulwich
|
Photo courtesy of the author. |
"That's
my guy!" I say, pointing to the brown and white wild rabbit that
romps with his colony just beneath the grassy knoll near my apartment
building. The open area is wedged between the busier road above and
my quieter street below and extends from our street entrance to the
backs of several apartment buildings. It consists of a grassy hill
with small gray boulders strewn up against it and the wild herbage
beneath the rabbits' feet. It is littered with cauliflower stems and
cabbage, now half-rotted, that the neighborhood folk occasionally
throw at them.
"My
guy" is surrounded by his albino friends, their red eyes
widening as they freeze in place upon hearing my voice.
I
shake the paper cup filled with commercial rabbit food and they all
come running. They dart in circles around my feet and I try not to
trip over them as I move into the bare dirt spot where I dump it.
They nudge each other with their heads, each one securing his place
before chowing down. None of them will let me touch them, which
annoys me to no end, and they stare at me side-eyed while
eating.
What
attracted me to the brown and white guy (or girl as he/she may be for
all I know) is a mystery. Perhaps it was the mischievous look in his
eye, his coloring, or the graceful way he lay stretched out on his
belly, enjoying being alive.
One
thing I do know for sure, he's not really "my guy" at all.
This
wild rabbit lives free... satisfying his instinct to dig, to chew on
wood stumps, and to live underground in burrows with his posse.
People? He can take us or leave us; nature provides all the food he
needs in an unending supply... whether green and fresh or brown and
dry. But what the heck, right? Why not dig your burrow where the
pickings are aplenty?
The
warren underneath has laid claim to the area and periodically
reproduces small bunnies who poke their heads cautiously out of
rabbit holes and dive back in when you approach. They will join their
elders once they are confident enough.
These
beautiful wild rabbits outrun the feral cats that live across the
street near the large plastic garbage bins. They also have so far
outsmarted the packs of jackals that hunt through the midnight
streets several times a week.
My
neighbors and I see these rabbits in the small parking area,
underneath the cars that pull up to the convenience store. It makes
me crazy and I tell them, "Move away, you're going to get run
over," but they no more listen to me than a teenage stranger
would.
When
I see them with wet fur after it rains, I want to catch them and dry
them with a towel. I want to care for them and keep them safe but
that means captivity.
These
wild rabbits have helped me rein in the temptation to grab... to
capture... and to own.
This
is why I resist naming this special, brown and white rabbit and call
him "my guy" only as a term of endearment to distinguish
him from the rest of the pack.
Their
crepuscular ways overlap with mine only at dusk as I'm never awake
and outside at dawn.
But
being a night owl, I can see them from my laundry room window and
watch them through the early nights- chasing each other around,
perching themselves on the boulders, and munching on the wild
vegetation between them. I watch them living free and natural and it
fills me with joy.
Many
years ago, I had domestic rabbits whom I would let out of their cages
during the day to let them have the run of my living room, much to my
husband's dismay. One thing my domesticated rabbits did-- which I've
never seen the wild rabbits do-- is jump excitedly into the air,
spinning around like mad hares so much so that you can practically
hear them laugh. I suppose the wild rabbits don't do that because
they've never had the experience of being locked up and then sprung
free. Or perhaps they do that at dawn when I cannot witness it. They
are not pets, under my ever-watchful eye, but rather creatures living
on their terms.
How
beautiful is the natural world and the way it functions! Even with
all of the inherent risks and cycles of life and death. To allow
animals to be natural and live amongst you and not as an extension of
you, has given me something way more valuable than owning them. It
has given me true respect for all creatures to live as nature
intended them to do and that means being able to fulfill all of their
instincts, without hindrance from humans.
I
pass our town's pet store and see the rabbits bred in captivity lying
in cages, lethargic and trapped. I have the urge to buy them just to
set them free amongst the wild ones. But I know that will cause more
trouble... introducing a "foreign" rabbit onto the turf of
other males. So I choke back the sadness and keep walking past. The
poor things are destined to live "safe" in gilded cages
with an unnatural water bottle and salt lick. They will never know
the freedom to move where and when they want or live underground in a
burrow where they belong. Nor will they ever know the terror of
smelling a pack of jackals sprinting closer or dodging an approaching
car.
It
was 18 months ago when I last saw a large, dead, white rabbit lying
on the sidewalk outside of my building. Unsure of what killed it, I
looked down at it not with pity but with contentment. This rabbit's
wild, natural life of freedom was worth it. A mammalian Braveheart,
dying on just as it lived: free. When it's "my guy's" time
to go, I will probably cry. But that's natural, too.
I
am a lover of animals and nature. I have taken up writing as my
mid-life passion. I enjoy gardening and scrapbooking.
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