Why Some Animals Are Born to Die
Driving home this evening from Tai Chi, through the country lanes from Usk to my home village of Goytre, headlights at full beam and beer bottles chinking in the back seat, a rabbit jumped out in the road ahead of me. I slowed down – didn’t want to kill the little bugger – and waited for him to get out of the way.
He ran up the road ahead of me. I drove on, very slowly, aware that there was now another car behind me. Still didn’t want to run over the little bugger. And obviously, soon he’d jump into the hedgerow beside the road.
No.
He ran on, and I followed. And on, and I followed some more. Every time he stopped, shivering, beside the road (and I couldn’t get Watership Down out of my mind), I’d speed up gently, then have to slam on my brakes when he ran out in front of the car again.
He ran on, I followed. Probably for half a mile, perhaps slightly more (I run through these lanes frequently, and I know the distances). Stupid creature.
Eventually he darted sideways into a gateway, and I sped up, wincing in expectation of the soft crunching sound he’d make beneath my whells. None came, and home beckoned.
And that rabbit owes me his life.
“You’re home late,” my wife said as I came through the back door.
“It was because of the rabbit.”
“What rabbit?”
“Well … never mind.”
I expect the car behind me got it. C’est la vie. Natural selection. And he was a stupid rabbit.
Please Feel Free to Share:
Comments
October 25th, 2008 at 3:54 pm
I love this story about a rabbit. And it IS a story. You bugger, you can’t even write an anecdote like this without it being moving. Somebody break his fingers!