This photo was taken just last week.
This is Lucky. He and his brothers and sisters were born in our bushes during the early part of April 2007.
A few short weeks later, Lucky’s siblings met a tragic end. Something (a coyote or a fox) got to them one Friday night.
At first we thought the predator got the whole family. But a few days later, we saw one little lone survivor out nibbling clovers.
That is why we named him Lucky.
Lucky was really adorable (as most baby bunnies are). The kids in art class were especially excited to catch an occasional glimpse of him during the day.
One particular afternoon, he was so bold as to come right up to the front door and peer inside- causing complete pandemonium in class. Students fled their easels and crowded around windows to get a look at the cute little bunny.
Cuteness aside, Lucky had an expensive habit.
He liked Impatients. And Moon Flowers. And the tall weed-like flowers my wife and I planted by the fountain near our porch.
I finally constructed a few chicken wire fences to stave him off, but early one morning I caught him knocking them over and grazing on our petunias.
It’s hard for me to be mad at a baby bunny. They are just so darn cute and fluffy.
So the bunny and I battled back and forth for a while, him eating our flowers and me building fences.
I know what you are thinking- wow, what a horrible burden to bear. A bunny was eating your flowers. Big deal.
But it was enough to drive me to the point of wishing ill fate on Lucky.
I had built fences. I tried to shoo him away. I let the dogs scent the yard. My neighbor told me to shoot him (not only could I never shoot a baby bunny, but I believe discharging a firearm within city limits may have some legal ramifications).
At wits end, I finally decided to take a new approach.
I gave up.
I sat back and looked at the problem and realized I was being ridiculous.
It’s a rabbit for cryin’ out loud. Let it go.
So I did. And it felt good.
So good as a matter of fact that I decided to take the rest of the day off from my chores.
To celebrate my new-found peace, I cracked a soda and headed out on the deck. With my feet up and a cold pop in my hands, I watched the sun set, with a strong feeling of serenity in my mind.
Hours when by and Monica and I enjoyed some good conversation under the stars.
Then, around 11PM, some unexpected company arrived.
A giant owl silently perched himself on the telephone pole by our deck and began perusing the area of parking lot three for dinner. Monica and I sat as silent and still as possible, hoping we wouldn’t scare him away.
A half hour went by, and I began getting a cramp from not moving. I looked at my wife, she looked at me, we looked at the owl, and he looked back at us.
It was eerie. And very, very silent.
At 11:35, he changed positions. Instead of facing the river, he now turned to face the street, perhaps for a fresh perspective.
At 11:40, I had to go to the bathroom so bad I couldn’t stand it. I slowly got up and slinked into the house.
Our visitor didn’t seem to mind.
In the middle of my time out, Monica burst into the bathroom and shouted, “Dude…you missed it! The owl got something!”
Turns out, while I was away, the owl spotted something rustling in the day lilies.
He focused his gaze, made a swift swoop to the ground, and nailed his prey.
A little squeak echoed through the cool night air and sounded the end of the varmint’s days. The owl then flew off to another pole and began dining on his catch.
Nature in action is an amazing thing sometimes.
The following day, our Impatients bloomed fresh flowers. Usually by mid day, the blooms were gone- ingested by our little furry friend Lucky.
That night, as we left to walk the dogs, Monica noticed the flowers were still in bloom.
The next morning, more blooms opened- and they too were left alone.
It became all too obvious that the sun had set on Lucky’s short life. His little light was extinguished by the powerful talons of a Great Horned Owl.
Problem solved.
