Last night my mom called from the patio: “Kathy! The baby bunnies are playing in the apple orchard! Why don’t you try to take a picture?”
I (inwardly) rolled my eyes and thought, “Yeah, right. Sure I could get a picture of a baby bunny. Sure.”
“OK, Mom!” I called from the bedroom, “will get my shoes on and head right out.”
I walked out to the orchard. Yep, there were two baby bunnies. Ohmygoodness, aren’t they cute? I walked toward them. One took off running helter-skelter under a pine tree.
The other bunny froze.
Sat absolutely still.
Ohmygoodness! I walked toward the bunny. It did not move. Walked closer. No movement. It remained frozen in place.
Until I was two inches from the baby rabbit. No kidding.
The baby bunny was maybe three to four inches long. Maybe a week old. Who knows how old a baby rabbit might be? It let me photograph it from several angles without even blinking its eye. Until, finally, away it scampered!
I stopped holding my breath. It was a miracle indeed. A baby bunny had allowed me to come within two inches. This was as good–or better–than a curled up baby fawn.
I wondered about petting the bunny but opted against it. What if its mama rejected it? Haven’t you heard rumors of animal rejections after touching a wild animal? Better to leave it wild and free and untainted by human scent. To tame an impulse to touch. I touched the baby rabbit in my heart: that was good enough.
OK, let’s move on to this morning. My friend, Pattijo, and I had a breakfast date at 9 a.m. I’ve known PJ since 4th grade (if not sooner). I opted to walk to her house this morning, maybe a mile away. Passed by the Yale Schools. Don’t you love the picture of all those baseball gloves lying in a pile? The Yale school kids have only three more half days before summer vacation.
Pattijo and I drank coffee first. Then ate Kashi cereal with raspberries and blueberries. We talked non-stop for two hours. Caught up on our lives. Aren’t her dogs cute? They are about five years old. One is named Daisy and the other is named….oh dear. I’ve forgotten. But they are both sweet and adorable and licky.
Pattijo pointed out a path through their back field where I might walk home. Upon arrival back at the house, Mom and I decided to return to Port Huron to shop and eat lunch. We stopped at the Port Huron mall once again. I looked at the merry-go-round at the center of the Food Court and decided a photograph was a Must.
Mom took off shopping and I stood entranced at the merry-go-round snapping photos of the bright and cheerful horses. Don’t they remind you of magic somehow? Of magic possibility?
And soon the merry-go-round took off, singing itself round and round, faster and faster, with small children clinging to the horses, enthralled.
The merry-go-round began to spin. I wildly snapped photos when suddenly a stern-faced operator barked at me.
“Hey! You! Do you have someone on the merry-go-round?”
“Um, no,” I replied, I’m just…taking…pictures.”
“You’re not allowed!” she frowned. “Stop! You can’t take any pictures!”
I walked over to her.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, “I was just taking pictures of the merry-go-round. I took a few pictures before it started moving. I’ll come back later.”
She then smiled, appeased.
“That’s OK, sweetheart,” she said. “We just can’t have people taking pictures of the kids.”
“That’s fine,” I replied. “I’ll come back later.”
Of course, I didn’t come back. The lady was just protecting the kids–that’s understandable. She didn’t understand that I wanted to see how the merry-go-round would look at 400 ISO versus 3200 ISO. She just wanted the kids to be unmolested.
And having had kids, and wanted to protect them from strangers, I do understand.
Bunnies and kids. We have to protect the little ones, don’t we?