Once again, a mommy bunny has decided to choose a spot in our yard to have and raise her babies. This is the third nest of which I am aware.
The first colony of bunnies started out as five. One was killed by our cat. The other four were brought inside in an attempt to save them from the cat. We bought kitty milk and the tiniest bottle ever to try to feed them. Two were reluctant eaters and two seemed to suck it down just like momma’s milk. I was hopeful. But… two died. Then the last two. It was sad burying all of them. The kids were also sad. I tried to comfort them by telling them that at least the bunnies didn’t get clawed to death or partially eaten. This helped ease the pain a little. Anyway, I was secretly hoping that no mommy rabbit would have babies in our yard again.
The next batch I am pretty sure was successful, as these bunnies were born in the front yard flower beds. Our cat never goes in the front of the house. He is, after all, an inside cat, and only escapes when the back door is left open a few seconds too long.
Yesterday, however, my husband found the fresh remains of a bunny in the backyard. Sigh… a new nest… We didn’t actually find the nest, just the one bunny. Today, the 11-year old found another bunny. This one was being chased by the cat, but was rescued in time. We looked everywhere for the nest but have been unable to find it.
So… this one has been brought inside also. He is in a bowl of cotton balls and towels, and seems quite cozy for the time being. The kids and I have already tried to feed it (not very successfully), and will be more diligent about offering it milk every hour, in hopes that he does not starve to death.
After I tried to “nurse” little bunny, now named Flopsy (however, there is a name dispute, as the 4-year old says it should be Fuzzy), I went and nursed my own baby…
The 8-year old said, “You fed the bunny and now you’re feeding the baby…” He smiled for a few minutes, seemingly happy and satisfied that at least his baby brother was grateful to be fed.