An Easter Bunny More Full of Fear Than Chocolate Eggs

Four Easters ago, my father made the holiday less than joyous for a real-life rabbit. The incident probably would have disturbed me had I been an impressionable child then, but I was merely an impressionable 25-year-old. I understood that a wigglenose loses its magic when you’re protecting backyard produce, much in the way that a deer’s sparkling black eyes take on a sinister glint when heirloom roses hang in the balance. What I took away from this nontraditional celebration of Easter was that the Easter Bunny truly was inferior to Jesus Christ, for the former lacked the latter’s magic resurrection powers.

This year, the rabbit arrived a day early — Holy Saturday, if you’re a big fan of Holy Week, and who’s not, aside from Satan? My dad spotted baby jackrabbit in the tall grass, in dangerous proximity to the bean sprouts. Because no shotgun was handy, the little guy was only photographed, with the understanding that he’d be on file as having been warned to stay away. He was ushered to the great land beyond the fence, where at least our dogs wouldn’t be able to lay a tooth on him.

 

He says “quiver.”

In case you’re wondering, he vanished when I turned my back for a moment. I assume that he either hopped his way toward new adventures or a predatory bird plucked him a way in a single, silent instant. Either way, circle of life.