Bunny Blessings

Two days before Hurricane Irene touched down in Hillsborough, something possessed me to go outside and put down grass seed in the patches of dried up lawn from the heat wave we had a few weeks ago.

In the midst of sprinkling seed in my backyard I saw the ground move. And this time, it wasn’t because of an earthquake!

I was curious. Did I just discover a gopher? A vole?  I found a twig and gently prodded the top layer of dried grass off the shifting mound under my lawn.  Behold. There were three tiny gray creatures, no bigger than 2 1/2 inches a piece wriggling around underneath.

Were they mice? I was scared. Wait. Mice don’t have floppy ears. These were bunnies.

At that moment it all made sense. I remembered a few weeks prior to this I had seen some gray bunnies seeking shade under the large zucchini leaves in my garden. One of those bunnies thought that the middle of my backyard was the perfect place to make her nest for her newborn bunnies.

My first reaction was to call animal control. The lady on the phone was so patient, kind, and informative. I guess she gets these kinds of calls all the time from non-expert, frantic-but-concerned animal lovers like me. She calmly told me that I should leave the bunnies there, and cover them back up with the grass that was removed. Good thing I had already done that.

I explained to her on the phone that I was concerned that my landscapers would drive over the nest. She told me to mark off the area using sticks, flags, or anything I could find to deter them from going near the bunny brigade with their mowers of doom.

My daughter and I had a supply of craft sticks and outlined a circular area around the bunny nest. But hours later, reports of an impending Hurricane Irene coming our way were imminent. I worried about the bunnies.

On Saturday morning, we knew it was going to start raining later in the day so we put Manda’s trampoline outside over the bunny nest so the hardest pounding rains would be deflected off their home. By the time 4 p.m. rolled around, the rains had started and the bunny nest was getting wet, despite our bouncy blockade above them. 

I called St. Hubert’s Giralda and they were inundated with taking stray dogs and cats off the streets prior to the touchdown of Irene. They couldn’t spare anyone to come out and relocate the baby bunnies. However, I couldn’t bear to see them drown as the runoff from my backyard was deepening and proceeding down the grassy incline that the bunnies nested in.

The eternally patient woman on the other end of my phone conversation guided me through my thought process in deciding what to do. I stressed over the consequences of moving the bunny nest and the mother bunny possibly not finding her babies and them starving to death, versus a different kind of mother, Mother Nature, wreaking havoc and pouring rain down at a rate of inches per hour which no newborn rabbit could survive.

See, bunnies won’t leave their nest. They stay there, huddled together, waiting patiently for their mother to swing by twice a day, usually in the evening, to feed them, and make sure they are properly concealed in their nest of soft dead grass.  I’ve learned that the mother rabbit only visits twice a day, usually in the evening or night, so predators don’t follow her to the nest and she keeps her babies safe. 

In light of the soaking rains, my daughter and I donned garden gloves and dug a hole in the corner of my garden, closest to the house. Unfortunately, I struck an ant hole as we attempted to recreate a new temporary nest for the bunnies. Ants poured out everywhere. I had to stop them.

The garden was the only place I could give the bunnies somewhat dry shelter outside, so their mother could attempt to find them and feed them during the storm I sprinkled some ant poison over the exposed ant hill and had no choice but to try to dig a new rabbit shelter about one foot from my first-choice location. 

We dug a shallow hole and gingerly moved as much of their original nesting and the three baby bunnies to their new location. I placed two zucchini leaves on top of their sanctuary in hopes that they would repel any water that flowed their way.

I hoped that the ant poison wasn’t too close to the new bunny home. That would be detrimental to them. But I hoped that the ant poison would keep the ants away at the same time, because they would also be dangerous to the bunnies with their bites.

Around 10 p.m. I went outside to check on the fuzzy critters. It was not a good situation. Gail force winds were in high gear and the nest was getting wet again. What to do?

I emptied one of my shoe boxes and got out two old baby blankets from Manda’s earlier years. I emptied a larger box in the basement and went with my instincts. I braved the high winds and sideways rains and scooped up the nest and bunnies into a blanket-lined box and they spent the night in my garage. Although it’s not the Ritz Carlton for Rabbits, it was warm and dry—two very important requirements for their survival at this point.

As most Hillsborough residents, I didn’t sleep very well the night Irene paid her visit. I heard creaks and squeaks in my house as the winds raced by and rains pummeled my roof. Around 2 a.m. the rains slowed and I thought to let my dog outside. You know, get while the gettin’s good.

I turned on the outside light on my deck and gave a peak out the window. Would you believe that Mama Bunny was right by the original nest area? She was on her hind legs staring straight at me. Her eyes told of terror. She was puzzled wondering where her babies had gone. She probably thought the worst with the rain. And she probably thought as I did–it was a good time to come out of hiding right now with the rains somewhat at bay. She risked her life to come out and feed her babies.  But her babies weren’t there.

I was frantic. What should I do? There’s no Emergency Bunny Book issued to you when you buy a house in Hillsborough. Do I put the bunnies back outside so maybe the mother could feed them? What if the rains started again? The bunnies would surely drown. As I scrambled to the computer upstairs to view the weather report, which foretold of more rain in its way, I heard the rains start to pummel my roof once again and my decision was made for me. The bunnies would have to stay the night inside my garage.

I was awake for most of the remaining night. I prayed that the bunnies’ mother would return after the storm when I could relocate them to the original nesting place. I hoped she wouldn’t give up hope. I tried to put myself in her shoes–if rabbits wore shoes. Would I come back repeatedly for my child, even if they weren’t there the first time I looked? You bet I would! 

I questioned the reason why I had stumbled upon their nest earlier that week, if I wasn’t meant to rescue them. Why was I summoned to get up at the exact moment she was searching for her offspring and witness that? All I could do was hope for the best.

Around 9 a.m., I ventured outside and surveyed the land, literally. The hole in the ground where I had removed the nest from was saturated with water and there was a tiny puddle of water in the concave center. It confirmed to me I made the right decision. There was no way those babies could have survived the storm outside all night. I was right to follow my instincts and move them to safety.

I surveyed my water-logged land looking for a place where the baby bunnies could be given some dry shelter in hopes that their mother would come around again.  Then I remembered. Part of my house overhangs the ground by about eight inches near my deck.

I got down on all fours and surveyed the low lying land. There was a dry spot in some aged mulch under that make-shift awning. I dug another shallow hole here and the bunnies were back outside. One of the little guys temporarily tried to make a run for it, though, with his limited hops. He was getting hungry, no doubt and with my handling of him, thought mama was nearby. 

I stretched out on the muddy ground and reached under my deck and grasped the little guy gently and plopped him back in the nest with his siblings. Luckily, he decided to stay and not stray this time. The question still loomed, would Mama Bunny find her litter?

The rains stopped but the winds still warranted caution as the day went on. After the showers and spritzes of rain had passed, it was time to place the bunnies back where they started from. The ground had absorbed the water, although it still was a muddy mess. I kept hoping, though, as evening approached, their mother would make her rounds again—if she survived the storm herself.

By this time, the nesting material was sparse and definitely damp. Manda and I lined the shallow depression in the soil, and placed the bunnies back in. I pulled some fairly dry weeds from the garden and placed them as additional cover on top.

I was wondering how to keep them warm enough and read online that you could make “heat socks” using rice and stuffing old socks with the grains. Then you could microwave the stuffed socks for a few seconds and heat would be retained. The trick was, the socks couldn’t be too hot, nor placed directly over the bunnies. 

Manda donated three of her old socks to the cause and with warmth of heart and hand; we placed the socks around the nest. With luck, we discovered these socks also acted as awesome anchors for the top layer of grass so the wind wouldn’t blow it off the bunnies.

During dinner, we spied two adult bunnies nibbling on green grass in our front yard. We were hopeful that one of these rabbits was the Mama Bunny contemplating her return.

We lost sight of the bunnies in the bushes, but about an hour later I ventured downstairs and as fate would have it, I looked out the window and Mama was standing right over the baby bunny nest! She came back. She found it. She didn’t give up hope.

I got all choked up when I saw her with her babies. Manda ran and got my camera. We hugged each other because we know everything will be ok now and it was all worth it.

Mama bunnies only come back twice a day to nurse their babies and do it in the evening. According to what I’ve read, she will only stick around for about five minutes or less while she does it, too. It was a less than one percent chance we would see her with the bunnies when we did. I'm so thankful we were able to witness it or I wouldn't have been sure that the bunnies were fed.

I truly believe this was more than coincidence. When I discovered the nest planting grass seed two days prior to these events, it was not by accident. The timing was fate. And for me to see the outcome—that was also fate. I'm just so in awe.

We witnessed the mother bunny nursing her young and meticulously fixing their nest before she hopped off to hide somewhere again until her next return. I hope those three little baby bunnies have an amazing life now. They survived the hurricane, and with the help of their mother, we all proved how nature and humans can work together. From one mama to another, my heart goes out to her.

I can only hope she would save my baby if the situation were reversed.  And you know what? I think she would. That 2 a.m. stare is something I’ll never forget—we two mothers locking eyes and feeling each other’s emotions of desperation and determination. Maybe, we somehow just understood the intent for good with an unspoken language of love.