Cottontail

We’re waiting in the heat of a Virginia afternoon for an Uber. I hope I have grandchildren so that I can tell them that once upon a time I had to stand on a London street corner in the rain and wait to see if a black taxi randomly drove past, and then wave at it furiously hoping that it would notice me. I will be able to tell them that sometimes I would ring for a taxi and they would tell me that it should be with me in half an hour and I would have to stand there and wait, not knowing. Now we can see exactly which street our car is on and in how few minutes it will collect us.

I can see a rabbit across the other side of the field as we wait. It’s doing what all rabbits do: moving its food around with its nose rather than its paws.

It looks like an Eastern Cottontail, Sylvilagus floridanus. The car will be here in four minutes.

Strangely it begins to run towards me:

It’s bounding across the grass:

It’s doing unbelievably cute bunny hops:

It stops and sits in the grass of the playing field, right in front of me:

I can see large, blood-filled ticks on the back of its delicate ear. Our car will be here in a minute:

It bounces under the hedge in front of me:

Our car arrives and we drive away after a wonderful wildlife experience.