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The Bunnies and The Crow
2005-04-27 - 12:21 a.m.


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I walked out of work and noticed a commotion over on the lawn between the trees where no one ever goes.


Two adult rabbits were fighting with a raven.  The raven was attempting to swoop down between them and snag something from the ground.


At first he was unsuccessful, as the two rabbits ardently fought him off.  Aggressively.  Something I've never seen before in my life.   The raven, as inky as night and a rather large bird, sat on a low bough of a nearby leafless tree.  The branch sagged under its weight, its attention firmly affixed below him.


He dove again, causing spasms of aggression from the two large, brown rabbits, who moved with lightning speed.  This time the old crow came away with something small and brown in his beak.  It struggled and kicked at the air.


A baby rabbit.  And these were its parents.


With one last jump, nip, and a flinging of its foreclaws, one of the adult rabbits was able to swat the baby bunny from the old black crow's beak, and he flopped awkwardly to the ground.  A momentary reprieve.


And I looked at the scene before me, in this soul-less place that I work.  Cement grey buildings hulk around.  People come and go, scared to be different.  Scared to lose their shitty jobs.  An undercurrent of thought flowed quickly through my head.  But not in any articulated sense.  Not an internal dialogue, so to speak, but just impressions, visualizations, feelings.


'its the ways of nature, the circle of life...just because we think its cruel doesn't mean its not necessary...the crow may be feeding someone else...'


All the nature documentaries I watched through deeply stoned eyes, hearing the documentarians speak about non-interference flashed through my head in a bleak panoply.  Animals die cruelly all the time. 


One documentary always stood out, wherein the moviemakers interfered.  I always liked that one. 


I saw the big black crow spread its wings and get ready to pounce, but I was already walking over.  The raven saw me before the rabbits did, and he paused.  I quickened my pace.


The rabbits froze.  The baby struggled on the ground. I doubled my pace to a full charge, not wanting the crafty old bird to take advanatage of this lapse in the parents defensive intentions.


The rabbits fled quickly, with one last look at me before ducking under a nearby canopy of scottish pine.  The raven ruefully flew off with a pissed off sqwauk.


And there I stood above a tiny baby rabbit, its heart racing, shivering, its respirations taking place at an alarming rate.


I looked around, and I was alone except for me and the animals.  The raven sulked to a corner of the parking lot and watched.


Now what do I do?  Pick it up?  And put it where?  Will its parents take it back if it has my scent all over it?


Will it bite me?


I looked down at the tiny bunny.  It froze, like a good little bunny.


I decided that the least I could do was to protect it long enough to give it a breather.  It seemed only fair.   


Slowly, the breathing slowed. 


"There, there, little one."  I said soothingly.  I waited some more, keeping an eye out for the black bird.


Usually I like ravens.  They're smart.  They're dark.  And they don't fuck around.  Almost evil, but not quite.  Sleek.   But I did not like this one.


The wind rattled the tree branches.  It made me think of climbing trees as a kid.  I used to spend all afternoon in a tree, pretending I was 'King of the Trees', and these were the subjects of my arboreal kingdom.  I used to imagine the rustling of the trees were applause, adulation for my benificent rule.  It seemed to be that my loyal subjects still remembered their king.


Some time had passed.  I reached down and stroked the baby rabbit.  It hopped a few feet and stopped.


"There there little one."  I said again.  He hopped behind a tree.


I walked aways off, to see if he'd go back to where his parents hid, but he didn't.  He froze. 


And back came the raven.


So I stalked back, thinking murderous thoughts of the ebon bird.  Actually wished for a bb-gun, so I could either kill it or scare it off. 


Then I got an idea.  I walked around the other side of the tree, and started herding the baby bunny back towards its parents. 


He flopped in front of me a few steps, the leg that the crow had had in his beak flopped awkwardly as he went, likely sprained or strained, but not broken.  It got to be more under him as he hopped.


"There there, little one," I chided, "These past few minutes of your new life have been very exciting, haven't they?"


And I would slowly saunter up behind him.  He would hop a few paces and stop.  And I would continue close in a drawl of a walk.


The raven had flew away as I had approached.  Eventually, I had the little bunny safe under cover in the scottish pine trees.


Again I heard the clacking of leafless branches as my subjects lauded my actions.  The trees still love me.


Looking at the scottish pine, I could see that it was old.  Its branches were no longer full, its bark looked a little worn and tattered, many needles were brown, but some were still flush and green.


"Keep an eye on him please, old tree."  I admonished the scottish pine.


Walking away to my car, I kept an eye out for the dark bird.  Kept an eye on my little friend.


I stood at the open door of my car for awhile.  The raven flew back to the empty, leafless branches and perched there, scanning the ground for the little rabbit, but he was gone.  The bird couldn't figure it out.


I uttered a prayer to God, whom I've always considered more of as a friend in the know than an overbearing Christian diety, to let me know that he would be safe.  Or, rather, if  he wouldn't be.  I just wanted to know, not take total predetermination of nature.


In the distance, I saw my little friend perk up his head, still aware of me.  He hopped quickly to one side of the scottish pine, then I lost sight of him.  He was no more than five feet from the crawling fir bushes where his parents undoubtedly live.  If he made it there, he would be safe. 


I think that's where he went.  Back home.  Safe.


I uttered another prayer to God, to watch over the him, if it was His will.


And I went to class. 


I was late, but some things are more important.


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