I just went outside to dump some garbage in the dumpster behind Fern. This patch of land consists of a web of concrete walkways mixed with bright green grass and trees with white, fragrant blooms. The sun falls through the trees and onto the grass or the pavement. The wind knocks free some white petals and they fall gracefully through the air onto my shoulders and the ground. I love to linger awhile, enjoying the sunshine and the breeze and the heavy, almost overpowering scent of the trees in full bloom.
I always look for rabbits when I’m back there. I think they like the space between Fern and the RSC because it isn’t so highly traveled. Usually when I see a rabbit I try to come as close to it as possible before it hops away. This time I tried to come just short of that point so I could watch what the rabbit would do.
This rabbit had mottled brown and white fur (would one call it a calico?), tall, stately ears, and huge black eyes. He sat sniffing at the ground, then licking his face, wiping it with his front paws. I walked toward him. He noticed my movement and stopped moving. He sniffed the air as I walked closer. I forgot that I should have been downwind of him to keep my scent away for longer. I edged closer to him as his nose frantically danced around, his tongue occasionally flitting out to help figure out what animal I was. I stopped. He continued to sniff, stone still. He kept his eye on me, and I looked straight into it. It was so large, perfectly round, and perfectly black. I could see no definite pupil, no colored iris—only uninterrupted deep, shiny black. I wondered what he was thinking. Was he afraid? Did he feel challenged by my presence?
I shifted my weight. The rabbit took off, bringing his long legs out behind his body as he hopped away. I was surprised at how slowly he hopped—casually, carelessly, like he was daring me to run after him. He stopped just across the sidewalk next to the wall of the Bultman Center. I watched him for awhile. He continued to clean his face and neck with his front paws. I inched toward him, this time careful to move only when he didn’t seem to be looking. After I felt I got as close as I could I sat down on the pavement. The rabbit stayed, alternately sniffing the air and licking his paws. He had his back to me, but I could still see his eyes. Finally I realized what was happening: he was watching me. This was a game to him. He wasn’t afraid of me; he was waiting to see what I would do next, at the same time challenging me to catch him off-guard. He never gave me the chance. I scooted closer to him, but I moved my feet too quickly and he carelessly hopped further away. I decided to call defeat, and I walked back into the dorm, my eyes struggling to adjust to the dimness of the indoors. |
Name: Ruthie