Journal Entry for Thursday, Feb 16th

Ravings by Linda J. Clarke “Ravings” are a series of essays written by my sister Linda J. Clarke. It was her hope that people who read them would gain a “tenderness and appreciation for the animals and plants who share this world with us.” For more on Linda and her book, “On A Planet Sailing West”, click here …Linda Clarke. The essay below is her latest writing.

Morning has broken – Like the first morning – Blackbird has spoken – Like the first bird Praise for the singing – Praise for the morning (Traditional Hymn) THE RABBIT Recently, near the North Pole, a few fossil hunters managed to dig out the complete skull of an aquatic reptile that haunted the oceans 155 million years ago. With eyes on top of its long head, immensely powerful jaws that could crush a Hummer, and hundreds of gigantic razor-sharp teeth, it was a creature of iconic fearsomeness estimated to be fifty feet long, "a crocodile on steroids". The world is still filled with unimaginably fearsome aggressors. A recently discovered colossal squid longer than a sperm whale and with grizzly bear-like claws on the end of its tentacles has been called the most terrible predator alive on the planet. Personally, I have a fondness for rabbits who do not horrify their neighbors and consequently have been unfairly labeled minor league players in the scheme of things. Because bunnies, ... being at the bottom of the food chain and a meal for any predator, are not considered one of life's champions, rarely is any thought given to the truth of their own harmless and unambitious grasp of reality. They are certainly not thought of as embodying extravagant self-belief. The fullest potential of a typical rabbit crouched down with its hind feet beneath its belly, rounded into a timid hump, is frankly small, at least in this stage of its evolution. Stubbornness, tenacity, the push to make the next big step forward - well, rabbits are not considered to be insanely great. Nevertheless, they are earthlings and deserve a moment of our time. In my casual interactions with a local cottontail, I sense she is largely waiting for me to stop staring and. move on. When the last rays of the sun set and I go in for supper, she can finally hop around freely, following her nose and vibrating whiskers, a solitary creature, not quite full grown, with large soft brown ears. I have not been able to decipher the smaller details of her behavior, even through binoculars. But I do see her eating a lot of green leaves. In Florida, the small wealth of vegetation upon which this rabbit's life depends, is still healthy and abundant. There is always something to nibble. Moreover, sticking so close to human habitation, she takes advantage of the monthly pesticide patrols and is not much harassed by mosquitoes, flies and ticks which of course can drive woodland and swamp rabbits crazy. People here either work all day, stay indoors in the air conditioning, or play in the sunshine, so there is no need for rabbits to take any serious precaution. The blissful serenity of this neighborhood poses no formidable dangers: no foxes, no hunters carrying rifles, no great horned owls and for the most part, no people. Of course, cars can startle her at any time, being one of the greatest enemies of any small animal, and once I did see a hawk swoop down and grab a baby squirrel. Fifty-three million years ago, (a million years before that fearsome aquatic reptile poked its head out of the ocean), her cottontail ancestors settled here. It’s hard to imagine tiny saber-toothed rabbits, no bigger than mice, scurrying around at night trying to survive between the feet of huge dinosaurs lumbering through the Cretaceous Period. Yet there they were, enduring tragedy, illness, and disaster; and somehow, somewhere in their long mundane odyssey of survival, finding safe enclosed spaces to breed, growing ever larger as the planet warmed. Living on this peninsula of west Florida today, my innocent and lucky neighbor believes she has no real adversaries. She has not been molded in the way of thinking of traditional rabbits. How else to explain her carelessness? Because she is no longer guided by her ancestors' vigilance, she no longer imagines herself in the clutches of anybody. Sprawling incautiously for many pleasant hours on the lawn appreciating a green dragonfly, at peace in her corner of the world, radiating immobility, she has become truly contemplative, unlike most of her perpetually anxious and abject peers who have the bad luck to live in the everglades where Burmese pythons slither, or near the beaches or in certain parks where cruel boys run wild. The stifling heat of July has caused her to move about less and less and in these torrid silent days she rests in her many comfortable beds, all in the vicinity of her birthplace; her corner of the cosmos. She thrives, a silent harmless presence living well on the piece of earth she first knew and still likes best. On occasion, traveling along secret runways through the ferns and crotons, she no doubt meets up with her venerable mother who must have borne several dozen more children since this first born. Surrounded by the latest results of human activity, brought into the neighborhood every morning by the local paper and every evening by the 6 pm newscast, she just might be absorbing something of all our troubles because she instinctively avoids people as she tries to figure us out by herself. In her familiarity with things of the earth, she already senses our capacity for unprecedented violence which seems to be a by-product of being fully human. Still, in her youthful solitude and pleasant retreat from fear and doubt, she seems largely happy. Often, she gazes out over a lake near where she lives, apparently absorbed by the mysteries and enigmas of existence, dreamily watching ducks socializing on the shore and three or four of their ibis pals pecking in the grass. Safe now, despite us, they all silently and reverently await the beauty of the warm night. A small tableau of humble, unambitious wild animals uncannily resembling a universe of meditation and prayer. Though I am only vaguely aware of her preoccupations and have scant knowledge of her sensitive life outside my window; she seems like a creature who avoids argument and bitterness altogether. With no prospects to speak of, she nonetheless seems to make the most of her share of happiness, lazily chewing her breakfast leaves under the oleander trees, meandering along the lawns, sitting in the shade of hibiscus bushes during the day, and dozing off under the crepe myrtle tree at dusk just as the flapping wings of the great blue heron splash down on the water's edge. It is all so lovely. But I wonder if my intuitive little female resting so easily on the lawn, her wrinkled somber face precocious and almost grown up, realizes she is living among a terrible fearsome breed, full of vicious argument and bombast, who would of course find a way to kill and perhaps even eat or make a wallet out of a pliosaur (that crocodile on steroids) if we ever happened upon such an individual today, just as we have permanently subdued all the great mammals wherever they live, just as we will certainly take on that deep diving colossal squid, if it ever gets too brazen. Somehow, I think she knows all this but in her complacent confidence, she still believes that we will never bother to persecute her or her future family. She has no knowledge of the hundreds of thousands of other rabbits whose eyes and ears have been poisoned by well-meaning scientists. She believes, no doubt, she will be allowed to continue being an admirable success in nature, living to be middle-aged, perhaps even five or six more years. She has plenty of time to bring new life into the world, (twice during next spring and summer). And in her prolific years she will give birth to up to twenty-five rabbits a year. Her life must now and forevermore be a cause for celebration, if only because we think it too unimportant to think much about. Linda Clarke©2012