Ramble with Storm: Insufferably cute & predator/prey

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Mulling things on my morning ramble with Storm, the family’s mixed Lab.

Baby rabbits are insufferably cute.

Reminded of that again this morning as a tiny baby rabbit sat by the bus barn, just feet from the black plastic downspout tubing.

Either it thought it’s they-can’t-see-me-if-I-sit still trick was magic or figured it was close enough to running into the spout and to safety; because it sure was not scared and I walked within a few feet.

The meathead held the sit command long enough for me to pull out my phone for a photo, but finally he couldn’t take it any more and broke command to charge the rabbit before I could squeeze off a photo.

The rabbit squirted to safety.

That’s a jumping off point for a discussion on modern outdoors. They’re so cute that I think we imbue them with things that make us forget that those insufferably cute baby rabbits as also easy prey for larger predators, raptors to mammals.

Say the meathead or me.

That disconnect about the outdoors around the modern world bothers me and I can’t quite figure out how to make it better.

Ramble started with an adult rabbit lollygagging around a neighbor’s decorative cherry trees, then sauntering into their flower bed when Storm showed interest.

A pair of goldfinches played around the gravel as we crossed the side rail toward the town pond. But my attempted photo only turned to be a splash of sun-caught yellow.

It was such a calm clear morning, that i took advantage of the photogenic conditions to pile up some stock photos of both old clay pits. Above is a view of the north pit.

On the far north end, a belted kingfisher gave its piercing call, but I couldn’t find it.

Taking the photo forced me to stand still, that is when i noticed the trilling of red-winged blackbirds trilled around the north pit and the croaking of a bullfrog. Both things I have not noticed recently.

There’s a lesson in there I suppose: Stand still and nature will reveal itself.

Blackberries hold near peak.

Back in town, a Eurasian collared-dove croaked southwest of the tavern downtown. Another one flew around and croaked near the woodworker’s house.

Mourning doves were everywhere, on the ground, flying and cooing. Maybe it was something about the calm morning that made them more noticeable.

Meanwhile, back at the bus barn, the meathead fixated on something I couldn’t see until it moved. Yet another size of baby rabbit was hiding on the side of bus barn. Finally it sprinted off into the safety of the pile of wooden pallets.

Near home, a rabbit again ran off from the decorative cherry trees and along the cool flower bed.

That kind of morning, prey everywhere before predators thin their ranks.

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