A Rabbit's Life

Reads: 40  | Likes: 3  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 7

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: The Imaginarium


A short story written from the pov of a wild rabbit.

Submitted: September 07, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 07, 2018

A A A

A A A


A Rabbit’s Life

You’d think it would be kind of idyllic, a stress-free life. Nothing to do but bounce around in the fields, chewing on grass and chomping up daisies. (But never buttercups – they are actually really poisonous).

Up with the sun, a long siesta when it is at its peak and is just too darn hot. We’ve got our nice shady burrows to cope with those times. Then, when it starts to cool again we’ll be out in the fields again, romping, munching chasing.

And there really is all that, but to think our lives are stress-free would be far from the truth. Always watchful, ever alert. So many threats from so many directions can snuff out our life in a heartbeat.

Dogs! Generally they make a lot of noise when they give chase, mostly they are too large to follow us into the burrows that twist and turn. However, when they come out accompanied by their two-legged humans, they become increasingly dangerous, especially if the human carries a fire-stick!

Then we have the traps. Some are lethal, will kill in an instant, but others wound and maim. A wounded rabbit will not last long. There are birds of prey, those oh-so-patient and stealthy cats, and of course, the very humans who placed the traps in the first place. I guess we are lucky, for most of them are simply too lazy to do a good job of hiding them well.

There are the other field dwellers too, the ones that have developed a taste for blood. Foxes, stoats, weasels, and we even have mink to contend with. They all seem to look at us and think of a tasty snack.

It is only through constant vigilance that we have been able to survive as a species. Our eyes are scanning, our noses sniffing, and we pick up vibrations from the ground. In fact we use that sense of feeling as a way of communication. If danger is spotted, we’ll thump one of our back legs on the ground, set off a chain of warnings.

We have survived, and sometimes we have done too good a job of it for some people’s liking. There was a plague of sorts, that they set upon us, trying to wipe us out. It failed but called untold amounts of death and suffering. We don’t like to talk about it, even now; myxomatosis is a word that sends a chill running through the mind and body of any rabbit.

When you pass a field and see rabbits out grazing in the grass and you think it looks so peaceful, perhaps you should take a moment to realize that the serene image is nothing more than a myth.


© Copyright 2018 hullabaloo22. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Comments

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

More Flash Fiction Short Stories