As a child, my family lived in the city, and the only animals I saw were dogs and the occasional cat. On rare visits to the city park, there were squirrels, which I found exciting to watch, feeling I was seeing active creatures in nature. But that was it. That absence from animals in nature continued for many years until my wife and I moved to our current home. Although unexpected, our world is now in the midst of nature. Rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, and the occasional deer and coyote all consider our home their home as well, but it is the rabbits that regularly exert their ownership of the property.

Sharing our world with these neighbors has changed my view of property, community, and (to some degree) life itself. Prior to living here, animals did not exist in my world. Oh, I knew they existed, but my world didn’t include them in any meaningful way. Animals existed in the woods, in the forest, in rural areas, but NOT in my world. I lived in the city. I was so unaware of so much. They were always there, had I taken the time to look.

My first discovery of another, smaller, world that existed right in front of me was when, while mowing our lawn some years ago, I encountered a toad attempting to share my path — https://davidsplace.org/the-toad-and-i/. That small creature kept me captivated the rest of the day, watching him (her?) navigate through the tall grasses he encountered. Not more than an inch long, his world, our yard, was immense to him, providing virtually infinite opportunities for exploration. My lawn tractor almost took his life, and that experience set me to forever be aware of my ability to destroy life around me unintentionally, yet permanently. Mowing the lawn has since become a task of watchfulness, knowing I have the power to inflict horror on a smaller world.

That experience also increased my interest in the lives of these, our little neighbors. Innocent and cute they may be, but they live a life of continuous stress, ever subject to becoming the next dinner for a predator. They are superb in maintaining privacy, as I have yet to find a warren or even to see a colony. Winter here is severe, with temperatures well below zero and heavy snow, yet each spring, they reappear. When I consider the stress that sometimes enters my life, I think of the rabbits; they live daily with the threat of death and starvation, yet they face each day with fresh energy, never retreating from the sunlight. Certainly, my stress will always be trivial in such a comparison. Their lives are just a couple of years, yet they make the most of every day. A lesson for us all. Each morning, I find myself looking to welcome their appearance, as they emerge from the neighboring wood. Life is good.