I spoke too soon about there being no yard-bunny road kill. Just now found Dickie, the white one with the funny top knot, in the street.
He and Barbara Bobo were the kits from Bambi, and he was the one that had the furry tendencies of his dad, Stubby the Lion Head.
I'm sad but not bereft. Dickie had a good life and many girlfriends. Maybe he has babies not yet known. I'll take him into the field tomorrow for a pseudo-Tibetan burial, offering him up to the hawks and coyotes.
I've lost several babies this year. Murgie, Stubby, the Netherland dwarf brothers, Soul Man the Old Man, Hippy, the black babies. So it goes.
Fuzzarelly is Back
1 comment:
Hey, we always did that pseudo-Tibetan burial thing, too! Who knew...
But it's a sad fact that, when one deals with livestock, sooner or later, one needs to deal with dead stock. Still, my condolences; especially since the alternative to a hurt is not to feel at all. And that would make us less human.
Nancy NeverSwept
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