Rabbit Trails
“Ma’am. You’ve got to come out here and see this.”
For the record, these are not words you want to hear from your landscaper. What had they found, buried underneath our gargantuan juniper bushes? Rats? Snakes? But I was wrong, and 2021 was about to change for us.
My breath caught at the sight of the furry creatures cradled in the landscaper’s rough work gloves: baby bunnies. So small, they looked more like chipmunks or mice, but their oversize ears gave them away. My shoulders slumped with the weight of an unexpected new problem: what on earth were we to do with them? Wild rabbits raised by humans have only a ten percent chance of survival.
Well, ten percent odds or no, this Mama Bear kicked it into high gear. A trip to Petco for kitten replacement milk and a dropper? Check. A box with a blanket and heating pad? Check, double check. Willingness to feed our tiny new duo every couple of hours for roughly three weeks? Wait, what? That was not in the landscaping contract, what just happened?!
The days that followed were full of chaos…and amazement. I joke that my children sometimes grow overnight, but these little critters really did change overnight! One morning I opened the box to see that their fur—which had been tawny and smooth before—had literally morphed in a single evening into the beautiful multi-textured coat that is a rabbit’s perfect camouflage. “Your fur changed!” I remember exclaiming. Another morning I opened the box to see that their ears, which had been pressed back against their heads, suddenly stood up straight. To see and hold these wild creatures up close was nothing short of astonishing.
The pair—whom we nicknamed Skinny and Chubby--were touch-and-go for a couple of days, but then they just seemed to take off. We made more trips to Petco for Timothy Hay and apple tree sticks. I tracked down a wildlife rehab expert in Macon, who assured me over the phone that if they were still alive, we were doing okay. Several trips to Publix found me hunting for non-gas-inducing greens and veggies. They tolerated Romaine lettuce, carrot peels, and tiny slivers of apple, but their clear favorite was cilantro. Boy, could they eat some cilantro! We supplemented their salads with as many wild greens as we could find, like dandelions and clover. Oh, I was so proud as they grew. When I wasn’t feeding them, I was showing pictures of them—to friends and strangers alike—telling them about the unexpected science project in our garage.
One day I was telling a lady at church about them, and her words had a curious effect on me. “Oh, rabbits,” she said, “They’re just so cute and defenseless.” I smiled a polite reply, but inside I was bristling, as if she had inadvertently said something to insult one of my children or my dog. You know the feeling.
Later that afternoon while I held a bunny in one hand and a dropper in the other, I considered why her words had bothered me so much. I decided it was because they weren’t actually true: rabbits are not at all defenseless. The thought hit me while I was holding one of them:
Their defense is their fear.
Okay, fear, plus a lightning-fast reproductive cycle, but for illustrative purposes, go with me on the fear part for just a moment. Eastern Cottontail rabbits, or to be scientific about it, Sylvilagus floridanus, have thrived on their fear so much, it has become their way of life. As I observed my bunnies up close and researched their physiology online, what I learned about their fear and its relationship to their bodies was astounding, and it plays out in four remarkable strategies.
1. Hide from what you fear. The fur coat that our bunnies grew was so beautiful up close: brown with white tips, brown with black tips, and all at different lengths to create a vibrant texture. This fur coupled with the ability to stand stock still for long periods of time helps cottontails virtually disappear into their environment. Why move when you might become someone’s lunch at any moment?
2. Listen for what you fear. This is what rabbits are most known for, of course. Their giant ears function like satellite dishes on top of their head to alert them to the slightest sound of predators around or above them.
3. Watch for what you fear. It was disconcerting to feed a bunny and have it watch me constantly with a single eye on the side of its head, never blinking: a deep, black pool. Rabbits only blink about five times an hour, and they sleep with their eyes open. Why? Because if the amount of light coming into their eyes changes even slightly, their brain will be alerted that much faster to wake so they can escape a predator. In addition, their eyes are so positioned on the sides of their heads that they can actually see what is directly behind them. However, this placement comes at a cost: a rabbit’s singular blind spot is the area right in front of the nose, hence the constant twitching to sniff for danger. When I learned this, I was stunned. I couldn’t help but wonder, in a figurative sense, is this what extreme fear does to us? That we see any and all possibilities for mishap far away or around us, but we may miss what is right in front of our noses?
4. In extreme circumstances, shut down. Like Ethan Hunt in Mission: Impossible, cottontails are playing a dangerous game. Cue the recorded voice saying, “This rabbit will self-destruct in five seconds.” My kids told me this is morbid, but I found it fascinating: fear is so hard-wired into a rabbit’s physiology that they even have a shut-off valve. If frightened enough, a rabbit’s heart will simply stop. This is useful, say, if one was to be swooped down upon by a hawk and carried away to its nest, because the rabbit would be dead on arrival; its own fear having killed it before the predator could. Extreme fear affects this creature all the way to the core in its heart, with potentially lethal consequences.
So, contrary to what my friend said, rabbits are not defenseless. And they are tremendously successful as a species! Rabbits are everywhere. Fear is the foundation of their defense system—it works, and it works rather well!
[Deep breath.]
As I write this, I can’t help but think how the last two years sure have given us—as human beings, that is—plenty to fear. We are bombarded, assaulted, and constantly harangued by new, often conflicting, messages of what we are supposed to fear. And world events notwithstanding, I also know that many of you reading this have faced extremely difficult or trying circumstances during the last two years, or perhaps you are facing them now. It can be enough to make our own noses start to twitch, but when that happens, we must remind ourselves that we are humans, not cottontails. Fear provides effective strategies for rabbits to live their best ‘bunny life,’ but it does not work that way for us. That is not how we were designed, and that is not what we have been told.
I love that the Christmas story—in both accounts of Matthew and Luke—begin with crystal clear directives to Joseph, Zechariah, and Mary to not be afraid. The good news of the Gospel is heralded by a command to not give in to fear. This command is as relevant for us today, centuries later, as it was when it was first spoken from the angel’s lips. “Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus.” This, my friends, is the good news of Christmas. It is a season where we can celebrate that hope is rewarded, God’s promises are fulfilled, and His love ultimately triumphs over anything in this world that we may fear.
It is news worth sharing, isn’t it? 2 Peter 2:14-15 sums it up well: “Do not fear what they fear; do not be frightened…always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.”
I am incredibly grateful for the experience we had this summer with the bunnies. In a few short weeks, they taught me so much, but mainly this: we have something greater than fear to cling to, friends. We have Hope.
Anne Sewall, Christmas 2021
