I still can’t believe I own five acres in the Pacific Northwest. I went with Ted to walk the lower meadows and came across a white furry thing. It was a beautiful rabbit…. I think. I didn’t dare turn it over to find out. It was clearly dead.
Now the only rabbits I’ve come across before are the Easter Rabbit, Peter Rabbit, and the odd pet shop rabbits. Here was one that clearly needed sorting.
I didn’t want Ted to roll in it, eat it, or just pick it up and drag it about, so I grabbed him and put him safely in the Land Rover. I don’t have any tools at the farm yet and needed to get a garden spade. I do however have my Hunter Boots which finally have real country mud on their heels! I am so qualified to live in the country when I wear them!
But back to the dead rabbit. Not sure how deep I had to dig the hole to bury the rabbit. I made the fatal error of asking the old fence guy, how deep should I bury the rabbit?
He got up from his measuring the new fence line. Looked at me, paused, as if he was talking to someone who didn’t understand a word of English, and said very slowly, You have a lot to learn about living in the country.
Okay I thought, fair play, I do. It wasn’t his walking off that perplexed me as much as the tears of laughter as he walked back to his truck.
Apparently you don’t need to bury dead rabbits after all. By the time I returned with my garden spade, it was gone. There was nothing left but little bits of fur which Ted instantly dropped a little present on! I think he will adapt faster to country life than me!
And clearly he’s not sticking around for his close up!
next time…A warning from the neighbours