The other day a horrible thing happened: one of the neighborhood bunnies got hit by a car and died.
I didn’t see it happen. It must have happened after my walk with Murph, because I would’ve noticed the bunny body in the road on our way home.
As it was, I spotted it from the kitchen window as I was washing dishes. I wasn’t sure it was a bunny at first, though. It could have been a piece of clothing someone lost.
But when the first buzzard showed up, I knew it was fresh kill.
The Buzzard Brigade
At first it was just one buzzard there for the feast. He dug in with abandon.
Then another buzzard showed up. He sort of stood off to the side watching. He only grew brave and made a move for some bunny meat when a third buzzard showed up.
But Buzzard One didn’t appreciate that very much. With wings stretched wide, he chased them off. Buzzard One then dragged the bunny into the grass on the side of the road.
Shortly after, two more buzzards showed up. Buzzard One was outnumbered. The bunny quickly got divvied up amongst all the buzzards.
The Bunny’s Buddy
The buzzards picked the bunny apart, leaving only his bones and a little fur. I couldn’t help but feel bad for the poor dead bunny and wonder if any of his bunny buddies would miss him. I got my answer later that afternoon.
I was washing my hands in the kitchen sink when I looked up and saw a bunny hop to the spot where the buzzards had fed on the dead bunny. There’s an enclave of bushes right near that spot that’s always been a prime bunny hangout. I thought he was heading there.
Nope. He just sat on the side of the road. He didn’t sniff. He didn’t move. He just sat there staring at the other bunny’s remains.
It was a tender moment to witness, because I felt sure he was saying goodbye and mourning his loss.
Lessons Learned
Even though I hate seeing animals die, the buzzards needed to eat. It may seem gross that they feed on road kill, but it serves a purpose. They’re nature’s garbage collectors.
Or perhaps that’s not it at all. Maybe it’s more fitting to look at them as nature’s undertakers. Because, in a way, they do take care of the dead’s remains.
And the bunnies…as is their nature, they breed like crazy around here. Some may not see it as any great loss that one got killed. There’s plenty more where he came from, they may say.
But he mattered to at least one other bunny. Which proves to me yet again that animals have feelings too. They may express them differently than us, they may not communicate them like we do, but they know sadness and grief, and probably joy and happiness, too.
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