Collared Rabbit

There is a certain rabbit of which I know.  He lives in a little strip of trees in the midst of an industrial area.  He's drawn my attention in particular because he's collared.

His collar is not natural.

When I first noticed him, in the summer, I thought he had been attacked by a hawk because I saw a large, reddish patch on the back of his neck.  I thought it was blood.

As he moved about, I got a closer look and realized it was something orange wrapped about his neck.  Snow fencing.

The horror of it hit me!  Images of that poor, struggling creature trapped in the fencing played out in my mind.  I was so saddened by the sight that I talked to some of my friends about the rabbit.  They had seen him too, and had tried to capture him in order to remove the fencing, but he had eluded them.

After that first sighting, I looked out for him whenever I could.  He had my pity, and I wondered how long he would live with such a handicap.

Recently, on a sunny winter afternoon, I saw him again with my camera at hand.  I was able to get these photos as he basked in the waning sunlight.  He had a companion a few feet away.

He's a timid fellow, as most rabbits are, but he's also a survivor.  There are no pleasant meadows where he lives, and no gardens to provide an occasional gourmet snack.  He lives in a sort of wasteland, with a wretched encumbrance, yet he survives and even thrives.  I'm glad to take a lesson from that.