I had an exciting sighting today!
A neighbourhood wild jack rabbit seems to have chosen my parents' yard as a site of choice. In fact his visits are so frequent that my Mother has given him a nickname. She's named him Jackson.
In truth, we don't really know whether it is just one Jackson or a community of them, since we haven't discovered a sure-fire way to tell one from the other, and there's quite a few of them around here. So, until we know otherwise, we simply refer to the rabbit in the yard as Jackson.
Why my parents' yard specifically? I don't know. They don't have a fence to slow the rabbits down, and nor do they have a dog or cat to scare them off. Well, whatever the reason, Jackson has been visiting the yard regularly for about eight years. The rain pounded down on the house one night, while I was house sitting there alone. I went to the back window to watch it pour, and as I stared out over the back yard, I saw something brown in the grass near a tree stump. I thought, initially, it might be a chunk of the stump, a rock, or some trash that blew into the yard. After all, it was a stormy night.
But a pair of binoculars soon set me straight. It was a jack rabbit huddled in the damp grass! I was very excited, but fully expected it to take off at any moment. Yet, I grabbed my camera, took several shots, watched for a long time, went away, came back, and still the rabbit remained. For almost two weeks that little creature lived in our yard. I watched it whenever I was home, and checked for it as I came and went. I watched grass and twigs zip down its throat, as if on a conveyer belt, as it nibbled really, really fast. I took pictures of it in motion and even watched it curl up and lick itself clean just like a cat!
Since then, although he's never lived in the yard for an extended period like that, his presence is year-round. In the winter, we watch his foot prints criss-cross the yard, often following the same path over and over until there's a deep groove in the snow bank. One year, he picked a good vantage point and made himself a little bowl in the snow, simply by sitting in the same spot for long periods of time until his body heat melted a little burrough away. Here he was so deep in the snow bank as to be invisible to passers by unless you knew he was there, which was, perhaps, was the point. We've since read that this is a pretty common activity for them.
Yet sometimes months will go by and the footprints will be all we will see of him. This year was like that. Tracks regulary criss-cross the yard, starting again with each fresh snowfall. But no Jackson.
Today, as we got back from shopping, my Mother, who was walking just ahead of me, suddenly said:
"Ooooh! Look!"
I glanced over to where she was pointing, and gasped.
There he was, Jackson, scampering across the snow towards the front yard.
"Hi Jackson!" I said, "How nice to see you!"
"Hi Jackson!" My mother added.
Seemingly at the sound of our voices he stopped and sat down in the snow with his left side towards us so he could see us out of that eye. He seemed to listen for a moment as we told him how glad we were he'd come for a visit. (I should add that it's not that I actually believe we can converse with rabbits. It's just that it's been my experience that enounters with wild creatures go much more smoothly and often last quite a bit longer if I speak to them in a kind and gentle and respectful tone.) I looked at Jackson carefully. He was big and impressive. Probably bigger than the biggest cat we ever had. He was also mostly snow white with some brown.
Mother inadvertantly stepped into my line of vision for a moment, and by the time she moved again, Jackson's spot was empty.
See you again soon, Jackson!
A neighbourhood wild jack rabbit seems to have chosen my parents' yard as a site of choice. In fact his visits are so frequent that my Mother has given him a nickname. She's named him Jackson.
In truth, we don't really know whether it is just one Jackson or a community of them, since we haven't discovered a sure-fire way to tell one from the other, and there's quite a few of them around here. So, until we know otherwise, we simply refer to the rabbit in the yard as Jackson.
Why my parents' yard specifically? I don't know. They don't have a fence to slow the rabbits down, and nor do they have a dog or cat to scare them off. Well, whatever the reason, Jackson has been visiting the yard regularly for about eight years. The rain pounded down on the house one night, while I was house sitting there alone. I went to the back window to watch it pour, and as I stared out over the back yard, I saw something brown in the grass near a tree stump. I thought, initially, it might be a chunk of the stump, a rock, or some trash that blew into the yard. After all, it was a stormy night.
But a pair of binoculars soon set me straight. It was a jack rabbit huddled in the damp grass! I was very excited, but fully expected it to take off at any moment. Yet, I grabbed my camera, took several shots, watched for a long time, went away, came back, and still the rabbit remained. For almost two weeks that little creature lived in our yard. I watched it whenever I was home, and checked for it as I came and went. I watched grass and twigs zip down its throat, as if on a conveyer belt, as it nibbled really, really fast. I took pictures of it in motion and even watched it curl up and lick itself clean just like a cat!
Since then, although he's never lived in the yard for an extended period like that, his presence is year-round. In the winter, we watch his foot prints criss-cross the yard, often following the same path over and over until there's a deep groove in the snow bank. One year, he picked a good vantage point and made himself a little bowl in the snow, simply by sitting in the same spot for long periods of time until his body heat melted a little burrough away. Here he was so deep in the snow bank as to be invisible to passers by unless you knew he was there, which was, perhaps, was the point. We've since read that this is a pretty common activity for them.
Yet sometimes months will go by and the footprints will be all we will see of him. This year was like that. Tracks regulary criss-cross the yard, starting again with each fresh snowfall. But no Jackson.
Today, as we got back from shopping, my Mother, who was walking just ahead of me, suddenly said:
"Ooooh! Look!"
I glanced over to where she was pointing, and gasped.
There he was, Jackson, scampering across the snow towards the front yard.
"Hi Jackson!" I said, "How nice to see you!"
"Hi Jackson!" My mother added.
Seemingly at the sound of our voices he stopped and sat down in the snow with his left side towards us so he could see us out of that eye. He seemed to listen for a moment as we told him how glad we were he'd come for a visit. (I should add that it's not that I actually believe we can converse with rabbits. It's just that it's been my experience that enounters with wild creatures go much more smoothly and often last quite a bit longer if I speak to them in a kind and gentle and respectful tone.) I looked at Jackson carefully. He was big and impressive. Probably bigger than the biggest cat we ever had. He was also mostly snow white with some brown.
Mother inadvertantly stepped into my line of vision for a moment, and by the time she moved again, Jackson's spot was empty.
See you again soon, Jackson!
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