At the end of our longish driveway, I have planted shasta daisies. There they are, next to the ugly metal pole that holds our house number.
As I walk by, I often pause to neaten up the grasses that grow near the daisies. Too delicate a job for the weed whacker.
So I am plucking away at the grasses and suddenly I notice this: a young bunny is hiding in there. I used to foster cottontails, and they were usually about this size when I released them – still impossibly small, but ready to be on their own. Sad that most of them will end up being eaten. Being at the bottom of the food chain must really suck.
This little one was gone when I went out after dark. I hope he or she is safe, and staying out of my vegetable garden.