If you look closely, you’ll see two rabbits sitting still and aware in my front yard, on either side of the two large bushes. (I’m sure there’s some joke here about hairy bush that escapes me.)
Rabbits love our yard, for some reason. We have to be careful when we let the dogs out in the back yard – Rita Mae in particular – lest these rabbits discover just how quick Rita Mae can run. (I found her, once, in the back yard, with a dead rabbit in her mouth. It was horrifying. I’ve convinced myself it was already dead, killed by a cat or some such, and left in our yard for Rita to find, but that may just be wishful thinking.)
Despite the danger for them, it always makes me smile when I see them, as if they’ve chosen our yard, out of all the yards in the neighborhood, in which to frolic. I always hope they are safe. I think I still feel guilty about humans’ impact on rabbits’ environment from reading “Watership Down” when I was younger.