Priorities, priorities!

  Early this morning, I headed to the pier.  It was starting out to be a beautiful day and I wanted to make good use of my time.  There were several more gardens that needed digging and a trellis that needed to be made.  First, however, it was highly important to "make my rounds".  Each morning, I find myself following what Pop did back on the farm.  He would wander around the farm "taking inventory" of what needed to be done during the day.  His day was structured around the priority of tasks.  The man put in long days as he rose before the sun and worked until it fell behind the pines.  My days are similar to some extent.  I start with a hike to the pier then wander through the gardens to check what chores needed to be tackled.  Then, I set my hand to the tasks in order of importance.  It is all good.

  It was that stroll to the pier that was a bit unsettling, however.  I have numerous critter friends that live in the marshes and their well being is always a concern.  This morning, the small marsh rabbit greeted me for the first time this spring.  I have watched this one since it was more or less abandoned at an early age.  A red-tailed hawk caught the mother so the little one was on its own far too soon.  It held its own, though, and grew to adulthood.   She is a pretty, little thing that usually has big, brown eyes.  This morning, the bunny's right eye was bluish gray.  As I sat on the pier about five feet from the little rabbit, it occurred to me that she had met with some accident.  While I think she could see some movement, it was quite apparent that her vision was impaired somewhat.  This is not a good thing in the wild.  Critters need all of their senses to be in tiptop shape to be able to survive.

  It breaks my heart to know this little marsh rabbit may be vulnerable to predators. Hopefully, she will be able to stay well hidden under the marsh mats or in the palmetto clumps.  Life is not going to get any easier for her after her struggle to survive past babyhood.  I sure wish there was some way to help her.  If I could only convince her to come live in the gardens, she would be much safer!  Sorry, Pop!  I know you always tried to keep rabbits out of your garden...but...this one is a friend and you always said we should help friends in need even if they are critters!  Poor Pop.  He is probably looking down from Heaven and shaking his head wondering where he went wrong teaching this daughter!  Now...priorities!  Find a way to help a wild marsh rabbit!

Breakfast On The Mudflats!

  The coming of cooler weather means the north wind will be pushing the tide far out from the shoreline.  Sometimes there is a nigh on fifty foot wide strip of mud between the marsh and the water's edge. This makes for difficult fishing from the pier but also makes for some fun "critter-watching".  Critters of all sorts scavenge the mudflats for mollusks, trapped fish and shrimp and exposed crabs.  The predators feast upon seafood while the tides are low and I get the perfect vantage point for viewing all of this dining.

  Yesterday morning, a lone raccoon wandered along the marsh edge hunting for breakfast.  It would scurry after fiddler crabs or nab a stranded minnow as it made its way toward the pier.  Had I not moved to get a clear photograph, the raccoon would have continued on until out of sight.  Instead, the critter darted into the marsh and made its way towards the shore.   I followed to see just where my friend was heading but instead of finding the coon, I came across a marsh rabbit munching on the cord grass roots.  The bunny went scampering out of sight just as the raccoon had. 

  The marsh provides plenty of hiding spots for critters.  Although the raccoon needn't worry, the rabbit needs to not only watch for land based predators but also those from above.  It would only take the red-tailed hawk a quick minute to dart down and nab the bunny.  Life is all about survival with these critters and they are astute enough to take advantage of any and all methods to get through another day.

In the Marsh or in the Swamp...Just not in the Graveyard!

  If you ever listen to the "old-timers" down here...ok, so that includes me...but if you ever listen to the tales that are told while sitting at dusk on some porch, you are bound to hear a few epic stories about rabbits. Tales of exploits long ago "when I was a youngster" abound and grow with each telling.  Some are pure fiction while others, at some point, may have had a shred of truth.  Back in the day (the usual method of starting one of these wild stories), I used to hunt rabbits with my brother.  (Yep, I am an old-timer telling this fib....err...story)   It was not against the law, so many years ago, to hunt rabbits at night with a spotlight.  We had two old carbide lights left from Grandpa's coal-mining days that put out just about enough light to see your hand in front of your face but those lights sure would make a rabbit's eye glow.  Brother and I would usually head down the old south field and wind up near a small graveyard. This graveyard had no concrete or marble headstones only large seashells marked the graves.  It seemed that both marsh rabbits and swamp rabbits loved that graveyard.  Since Brother was the elder, he always toted the old single-shot rifle and while I toted the rabbits.  It was my job to crawl under the brambles to retrieve the rabbit once he shot it.  The logic behind that was that I was smaller and, well, he had the gun and could not crawl.  The system worked well for two youngsters not yet reaching their teen years.  Pop would give us three bullets and we had better bring back three rabbits.

Pretty little Marsh Rabbit near the pier.

  One particularly dark night (moonless nights were the best for hunting), the light picked up the telltale red eye of a rabbit.  Brother raised the gun and shot.  The rabbit keeled over without a kick. I looked at Brother and got the motion to climb through the small wire fence and through the overgrown graveyard to where the rabbit had fallen.  When I reached out for the critter, it jumped up and glared at me.  Those red eyes were still glowing in the beam of the old carbide light and made the rabbit look almost evil.  Ummmm!  Gulp!  "He is not dead!" I called to Brother.  "Sit still.  Don't move an inch." was the answer I got before POW!  A shot rang out just inches from my head.  The rabbit fell over again.  "WHAT ARE YOU THINKING!"  I yelled almost falling on top of the rabbit! It is a good thing that I trusted Brother!  Reaching out for the rabbit, I was met with those red, glowing eyes once again.  "HE AIN'T DEAD!!!"  POW!  Another shot rang out before I could even finish the sentence.  Now that I was shaking from head to toe, not only from rifle shots whizzing just inches from my skull, but from a non-dying rabbit, I was thinking that it was best for me to hightail it back to the old farmhouse.

  Ok, surely that rabbit had met its demise.  That was three shots that made contact with the rabbit's head. Here I am in the middle of the night, in a graveyard with an un-dead critter.  I could smell the rabbit's blood.  I could see it oozing from the wounds. I was close enough to see three distinct wounds yet that critter jumped up to glare at me once again. That was the last bullet.  There were no more and this critter looked like he was about to eat me for supper.  "UMMM....DO SOMETHING! NOW!!"  Just then, I felt a hand on my shoulder.  I almost freaked out because I could still see Brother's carbide light flickering on the outside of the graveyard fence.  Just as I looked up, a club came crashing down....on the rabbit.  Pop had heard our three shots and came to investigate.  He stooped to pick up the rabbit in one hand and a shaking daughter in the other.  "Best be getting home." he said.  "You don't look so good."

  When we got home, Pop showed us the three bullet holes in the rabbit but offered no explanation why the critter would not die.  The next day, Mom made a skimpy pot of rabbit stew to feed the family.  She always could make do by adding a few more potatoes, another handful of carrots and a couple of more onions.   As for Brother and me?  You can bet your life that we never went hunting in the graveyard again!  We made sure to steer clear of that place!

  To this day, I have no sound explanation as to the incident.  Brother was (and still is) a crack shot who could knock the center out of a quarter with that rifle but could not kill that rabbit. We caught enough ribbing from the old folks about our inept attempt at rabbit hunting.

A handsome Swamp Rabbit near the peach orchard.

  There was a fine rabbit back behind the peach orchard yesterday that made me think of the above tale.  That rabbit also got me thinking about Marsh Rabbits and Swamp Rabbits.  Back in the day, a lot of folks used to think that the Marsh Rabbits were special.  Tales used to tell of how they would outwit alligators and fox.  These rabbits would lead dogs on a wild chase through the marsh until the dogs were mired.  The rabbit would then swim to safety.

 Marsh Rabbits are smaller than Swamp Rabbits and always live near a body of water.  Their main escape is by swimming.  Swamp Rabbits can be found just about anywhere there is underbrush and a bit of water. They can be found in swamps and creek bottoms. They use their speed to escape predators.  The two are sometimes lumped together as one and the same but there are differences.  Besides being smaller in general, the Marsh Rabbit has smaller ears and swims much better.  I am glad we have both types bounding about the place.  I just really do not want any more un-dead rabbits here!