Animalia, Part 1

Friday, May 20, 2011

Apologies for being AWOL, but life has been moving at a breakneck pace lately.

Mostly.

Except in my backyard, where life moves with a slow, steady rhythm all its own.

The buds and leaves and blooms continue to slowly unfurl all over my garden, each in its own time. Vine plants creep upwards and outwards, curling like slow flames along trellises. Last year's plantings have all returned, and then some: new additions occasionally pop out - plant life that wasn't able to bounce back last spring after a long dormancy, but recuperated enough by this year to show their true colors, like a lovely lilac tree I'd assumed was dead. There are also new plantings I'm experimenting with, now that I've witnessed one full year's cycle of my garden - bulbs I've dropped into deep holes, seeds I've sprinkled into shallow soil - and they surprise and delight me with their daily progress.

But best of all, my garden is teeming with new animal life!

Adorable baby earthworms wriggle and writhe delightedly through the rich soil. Cardinals and red-winged blackbirds, hummingbirds and butterflies, all flit through the garden, leaving a palette of sound and colors in their wake.

A robin family has taken up residence atop my new downspout, faithfully guarding their brood-to-be.

But best of all, I have a family of baby bunnies living in my garden.

They love to hang out on the so-called "rainbow path" (credit goes to my nieces for this wildly-appropriate name) that surrounds my alliums, day lilies and daffodils. My magnolia tree and burning bush provide them with a bit of privacy, but through the branches and breaks between the hedges, Ayize and I are able to spy on them with ease.

Every night, when dinner is finished, we stand by the giant picture window in our dining room and watch the bunny babies frolic, chase each other, startle easily, race back to the safety of abundant green growth, peek their heads out moments later, and start the whole cycle over again.

In a rare rabbit moment, this baby is flying solo. Their big heads, tiny ears, and chubby miniature bodies - about the size of chipmunks - are absolutely adorable to behold. Ayize even asked me tonight, "Are they super cute, Mama?" as if seeking affirmation that he was not alone in his awe.

Mom clearly wants them to remain hidden until her arrival, but like naughty teenagers, they can't help themselves, and frequently venture out for tiny, timid, fearsome explorations, just a few feet away from the safety of shelter. Ayize loves it when they pop out en masse, and we have fun counting how many appear at a given time:

At dusk, lean and lanky Mama Bunny always faithfully arrives.

She will often foray about, approaching her wee ones from umpteen angles, stopping each time at the slightest sound and beginning her approach again from another furtive position, until finally she feels she's successfully arrived at them unseen by hostile eyes. Strangely, she is not overly fearful of me - she sees us watching at the window - but I've been as kind and inviting as possible to her and our other bunny tenants since we became their new landlords over a year ago, which I think has helped immensely.

Her first approach is invariably the most straightforward, at the beginning of the horseshoe curve that makes up the "rainbow path." She will sometimes look towards us as if saying helloo!

But her successful approaches are always ultimately from the other side, along the back of the house. That was the case tonight, after one last critical inspection of her surroundings:

And then, like a shot, she's off.

This video shows my ultimate Mama Bunny in action - I just love this little girl with all my heart. She is so dedicated to her babes!

(Apologies in advance for the Curious George DVD playing in the background, but I really wanted to capture this moment on film, and Ayize was knocking at the glass window and startling Miss Mama tonight, so I had to distract him):

She checks one last time before she's satisfied, and then somehow, with a silent signal, her brood comes bursting out of my foliage and begins violently nursing as if they're starving - and who can blame them, as I believe she has nine - NINE! - baby bunnies to feed, so there may not be a whole lot to go around. Thankfully, I've noticed the wee ones timidly nibbling on some of our many garden offerings, so hopefully they're supplementing themselves and not fully relying on poor Mama alone...

Happy belated Mother's Day, Mama Bunny!

We're calling her Beatrix, in honor of Ms. Potter and her lovely tales, and I keep telling Ayize that our garden is far friendlier than that of Mr. MacGregor's.

=)