Oh no, the bunny!
Originally written June 13, 2021.
Much time has passed. Now I’m retired to a little house on a pond close to Mt. Dora. Even though this spot isn’t rural, it is very quiet and there’s lots of wildlife. As a matter of fact, last night at dusk as I sat on the couch looking over the pond, the little brown bunny who lives perhaps under the shed, sniffled its way carefully under the bushes toward Jerry’s house. Roman, one of my twin almost two-year old grandsons, is a big fan of bunnies.
The next morning I did my new morning routine of taking coffee and a book to the front porch to enjoy the air and the sights and sounds. But what’s that in the bend in the road, right where my property touches Richard’s? A bunch of black vultures are clustered around what I assume must be a dead animal. Oh no! The little bunny. It must be the little brown bunny. I can’t tell but there’s definitely a lump of something there. Then I see Richard looking at this group and taking pictures or a video.
What should I do? What can I do? This is nature after all and vultures are supposed to scavenge dead animals. I feel so sad but vultures have a right to exist even if they are, well, you know.
But then as the vultures peck at the carcass, I see it has a long skinny tail. Wait a minute! That can’t be the bunny. What is it? As I keep watching I realize it’s an armadillo. In a flash all my heartbreak over the poor dead bunny is gone completely. Armadillos dig under foundations and are a royal pain. Now I’m rooting for the vultures.
But this is not the end of the story. The next morning the vultures, during their pecking and fighting have moved the dead armadillo from the road into the grass directly opposite the spot where I read and have coffee every morning. Well this is pretty uncomfortable while also being rather interesting. I now know that the sounds vultures make is rather like the light woofing you hear from dogs when they’re curiously investigating something. I also know that a vulture on the roof sounds like a person walking around up there. That was momentarily rather scary until I figured the cause.
Later that day I made a trip to the drugstore but on my return realized that those vultures have now moved the carcass onto my lawn. No no, now there’s a problem. It was interesting when it was over there. It’s gotta go now that it’s over here. What to do?
My first thought is to get a sturdy rake and a garbage bag, but while it’s my first thought, it’s my least appealing option. Can I get someone else to handle this? Do my tax dollars pay for armadillo removal? Who might handle this? My first call is to animal control. They’d be happy to come and pick up a dead pet so they can scan it for a chip. But a wild animal? ‘Fraid not. They suggest calling the city utility department. That’s a thought. Sanitation workers? Maybe. Another, “sorry no” but they recommend Florida Fish and Wildlife. Okay, make the call, another no. Dead end.
Coincidentally, just as I hang up there’s a knock at the door. It’s the monthly lawn pest control guy here to introduce himself as he’s new and we’ve never met. I walk outside with him and mention the armadillo/vulture issue continuing “over there”. He launches into a speech about the importance of buzzards. While I’m quite aware of and appreciate these sanitation workers of the wild, I’m much less enamored when they’re doing the work up close and personal.
“Would I like him to move the armadillo?” Yes please. Yes I have a shovel. He puts on a mask, takes the shovel, picks up the very stiff creature, walks it across the street up the embankment and heaves it a good way over the bushes onto the former sod farm. Then he even graciously uses the water spigot on his truck to wash off the shovel. My hero!
So it’s an “all’s well that ends well” episode. But it brings to mind my skeptical thought on coincidences. I think they’re just that. Coincidence. This one sure was lucky for me. I’m still a skeptic but maybe just a little more open to alternate ways the universe might be working. Maybe.
But wait, there's more to be learned from this story. A word that's come to the fore in the past year is "woke". I looked up its meaning and it harkens me back to the 1970's when, as a women, I got involved in the women's movement. In those days learning to look at the way things are with a different mindset was called consciousness raising. Now, as I think about my feelings about the bunny (pure, innocent, Peter, the white rabbit who was late for an important date), my obvious antipathy toward the armadillo which has generally a poor reputation here in Florida, sticks out as a prejudice. I accepted that as normal and okay when I originally wrote this piece. Now, I have the same prejudice - but I'm at least aware and I could soften my heart just a little bit towards this armadillo. I guess that's progress.
