Meet "The New Bun"

Friends, I have some sad news. We suffered a little tragedy in our yard this past week. Do you remember "The Bun"? The Bun was a young eastern cottontail who lived in our yard all summer. We referred to it as "him" although we were never really sure of the gender.

A day or two after I returned from my weekend trip to Atlantic City with my sister, my husband cleared his throat and asked me, "You would want to know the truth, right? Even if the news was bad?" And I looked at his downcast expression and said immediately: "The Bun was killed on the road while I was gone, wasn't he?" And my husband sadly nodded.

The Bun was a kind and gentle creature who harmed nobody and nothing, not even the green pepper plants in the yard. He was a peaceful spirit, and we saw him often; talked to him a lot. However, he had a reckless habit that we couldn't seem to break him of: playing "chicken" with cars on the road.

I would often come home to find him lurking along the road, ready to dart in one direction or another when a car came. We chased him away from the road many times a week. I was worried sick that eventually while pulling into my own drive way, I might accidentally hit him with the car.

Well, it turns out that The Bun's penchant for playing chicken was ultimately to be his downfall. On Sunday morning, my husband found The Bun's body on the road by our mailbox and sadly lay him to rest in the woods by our house.

While moping about the yard in the following days, my husband discovered that we had a new bun in the yard. This bun was slightly smaller, somehow a bit more female looking than the other bun.

I met her for the first time on Friday evening. I walked out to get something in the yard, and there she was, sitting sort of hunched up in the grass. I watched for a few minutes and she gave a dainty stretch of her back paws: a big, l-o-n-g, pretty little stretch, face down in the green clover, eating with gusto all the while.

Somehow finding a new bun in the yard has eased the pain of losing the original bun. We believe in keeping things simple, so we are calling her "The New Bun," at least for now.

To The Bun: We wish you green fields of tasty clovers in the Next Place where you have gone. May they be sweet and tender and neverending. May the sun and moon and stars watch over you and light your way.

To The New Bun: Welcome to our yard. We hope you enjoy your stay. Oh yeah, and please stay off the road!