Dear Editor:
A Husk of Hares
I have a summer place.
A cabin in the woods.
Seasonal, not watching winter winds blowing whispers of snow, across sand hills; to and fro.
My passion seems taken all too soon from my heart. I try to be strong.
I don’t want to cry and fall.
My daughter calls me the “rabbit whisperer.” My claim to a small parcel of land on the South Bruce Peninsula – Red Bay. I talk to and reach out to feed apples to the hares. Wild hares, snow hares. The most count – seven. I’ve seen.
I can call that lucky.
Rabbit pellets, carrot peelings, green romaine, cut up juicy apples. Always wash it down with a dish of fresh water. Spring water; from our sand point well. I was a rabbit lover. Still am. My heavy heart has left me in sadness. Such a prey animal. Coyotes attack, foxes attack, fisher’s bigger than cats attack, racoons attack, owls attack, man attacks! Shot at – killed. For senseless reason. For not wanting your “flower bouquets” on your deck to be eaten. Don’t they deserve a right too on this beautiful God given planet?
Raccoons shot, a nuisance, so “shoot ‘em all!” So they do. Don’t feed the bears, or we will have to remove them; scare them silly! So man won’t be bothered. The least of my worry.
I communicate with Nature.
Nature returns a smile, a loving look, a friendship of acceptance! A truly extraordinary connection, to my heart and soul.
A wild hare, eating apple right from my hand! A wild pet, a respect, a love so deep, asks nothing in return.
I arrive. Are you here?
I see your familiar runs, your tumble and turns and rolls upon the sand.
Your favorite dish awaits. Sometimes nothing else means more, than to look into your trusting eyes, your health is fine. As many good foods, I feed as you dine.
I see the shooters, disgust in your eyes. Now I know where you are.
Neighbours found you.
They shot and left you buried in the hole. No love, safety or sanctuary at Opus 44 anymore.
All I have are pictures on my phone; and remember when I was a “rabbit whisperer.”
Trying to help among evil thorns.
Deborah Dietsche,
Guelph