As we took a walk around the cul-de-sac down the street from us, Luke stopped abruptly and pointed to a pair of rabbits under the shrubs in one of the yards. “Hey, look!” he exclaimed.  “That’s our rabbit!” Sure enough, it was.  It’s easily identifiable: a sleek, black rabbit with a white nose and a white spot on its right shoulder.

But never fear.  This rabbit was not an escaped Angora.  In fact, it’s not really our rabbit at all.  It’s a feral domestic rabbit, who has moved into our yard from its colony in the aforementioned neighborhood. 

We still refer to it as “our” rabbit, though.  It isn’t shy around us anymore, and will occasionally consent to a brief pat on its head. It hops around with the chickens, makes itself comfortable in the barn on rainy days, and enjoys pilfering nibbles of hay from the goats. 

Its friendly face and alert ears hopping about while we are doing chores or playing in the yard lends a certain Beatrix Potter-esque feel to our days.  It’s not hard to imagine our family as the humans in this little rabbit’s tale of adventure as he strikes out from his cozy neighborhood to explore.

A few months ago a dear friend made us a lovely map of our property in a whimsical storybook style.  She included a small rabbit exactly where it enjoys foraging greens, despite the fact that there was no bunny living there at the time!  It seems almost as though this Small Black Bunny was always supposed to be a part of our little barnyard.