This is the Year of the Dragon, but it is the season of the rabbit. Looking out at daybreak and dusk, I see rabbits. Long-eared jackrabbits sitting still as statues on the slopes of the yards or loping leisurely up and down the driveway. Lone rabbits and rabbits in groups. Where have they been? Why are they here now? How long will they stay? (And do I have to feed them?) One doesn't see herds of migrating bunnies traveling on the roads or through the hills, so why haven't these rabbits been apparent all year? Even if they had hunkered down and hibernated during the winter, surely they wouldn't wait until the end of July to come outside. Ah, well, another subject to ponder while down in the barn.
Once in awhile, amidst the dozens of green and red Anna's hummingbirds that come to the feeders, one with bronze and gold feathers will show up. I've never seen more than one at a time, but usually one per season. Why is this, I wonder. Is it an anomaly? Is it a fellow traveler from a different flock? So far this summer, these little guys in large numbers have managed to slurp their way through sixty pounds of sugar. I'm mixing four quarts of "juice" a day now, filling three feeders twice. They were waiting for me just at dawn this morning, buzzing my head and clicking in their impatience, sneaking a sip even as I rehung the bottles.
What will the next season bring?