Rabbit's Got a Good Thing Going!

As I have mentioned, my husband has made friends with all of the creatures of our yard. He enjoys feeding the birds peanuts several times per day. And he has taken up with wild rabbits.

Now, I have no objection to all of this. In fact, when snacks are handed out to the critters, I'm the only one who gets to watch the show. And I take my camera along to document it. Of course. Who wouldn't?

For after all, the friendship between a grown man and a wild eastern cottontail rabbit may be somewhat . . . unusual. It is definitely special: a relationship and a little activity that makes them both happy. So why not?

This was the scene in our yard on Saturday evening around six. I had just told my husband it was time to go check on his rabbit, and when he went out, there the bunny sat, waiting for food! This is Binky Bunzini, offspring of our dear friend Mini Bunzini.

The snacks served are always fresh, and handled with care. They are served on a clean blue frisbee. A few carrot slices. A bite or two of broccoli, when we have it. The occasional peanut, or bit of dried cherry, cut into smaller bits. An apple slice.

At this point in the bunny show, the rabbit had eaten some of its favorite bites, and was hoovering up the last slice of tasty orange carrot. You can see how close my husband gets to the bunny; there he sits in his chair right next to it. (Just like he did with Binky's mom!)

And most bunny snack sessions conclude with "chinning," which is what a bunny does to assert ownership of something. The fact that the bunny often chins my husband's shoes makes me giggle; he is a man who is owned by a rabbit, and I get to watch and tell the story. And yes, that rabbit knows it when it's got a good thing going! :-)

I wanted the song to accompany this image to be about friendship, and I asked my husband to recommend one, since it's his leg and his rabbit! So here is one of his choices: Bookends, by Simon and Garfunkel.

Time it was and what a time it was,

A time of innocence

A time of confidences . . .