I had a bunny when I was little. My dad made it a nice cage out in the yard. It chewed thru the wire and escaped into the nite. Much like our recent last two outdoor bunnies did. That's the extent of my bunny knowledge.
So, this baby-bird bunny noise was something all-together new for me. Thumping I get, but squealing?
The girls were finally convinced and grabbed their flashlights and went into the dark back yard to investigate. Well, it was all of 30 seconds later when the older gal came running in bawling her eyes out saying, "The raccoon got my bunny! The raccoon got my bunny! Peanut Butter is gone - he's been eaten!"
Oh my. That's not what I was expecting to hear. I suddenly had this image of a raccoon, with his bandit mask, tip-toeing out the back fence with a rabbit under his coat. I was both horrified and fascinated. Horrified mostly that my daughter saw this happen...oh, the nightmares this poor child would forever have of her beloved bunny being carried off by the boogie-coon.
Now, I should add here that I'm the one who built this secure little bunny coop. Adapted it, actually. I wanted the bunnies to have a two-story townhouse instead of just a small apartment. Apparently the little critters are too smart for me and managed to figure out how to, shall we say, open the back door. And I apparently, should stick to knitting and baking bread and leave the construction to the man. So be it.
Labels: animals and such