
Summer Conversation
“Told you I was carrying twins,” Mother Doe said cheerfully. “Two times the joy, two times the worry.”
“They’re so beautiful,” I replied. “Thanks for spending so much time in our yard so I can watch them grow. I see their spots are beginning to fade a bit, and they are getting so big!”
“Yes — where does that time go? One day you have them tucked away, hidden in the tall grasses and the next they are romping and chasing each other — and sometimes — inviting me to play. Have you noticed them coming up and touching their noses to my head while I am munching on the tiny, unripe, green apples that have fallen?” she asked.
I laughed. “Indeed, I have. It brings a smile every time I see the long, gangly legs of your offspring awkwardly carrying them away from your half-hearted chase. I imagine it’s nice that they’ve got each other to play with — we’ve only got the one. I always wonder how different life would have been if he’d a brother or sister.”
Now it was Mother Does turn to snicker, “Good and bad, my friend — just like everything else in this world. It’s the thoughts you bring to the situation. Have you noticed all of the rabbits this year? Haven’t seen a crop like this in all my life. They’re everywhere! Big, little, medium sized. It’s a good thing everything is growing so lushly. We’ve all got plenty to eat.”
“I’ve noticed. They’re so bold, too! Yesterday, a medium-sized cottontail held it’s ground until the dog was within two or three feet. Despite the heat, Mara felt obligated to give a lazy lunge, which sent the bunny into the brush. I think the hare knew it had little to fear,” I said.
“Do you know what else is multiplying like rabbits this year? The flies and mosquitos! We cant catch a break, even on the grassy, open spaces,” said Mother Doe.
“Yes, I see your tails and ears twitching. I watch you balance like a tripod when you raise a rear leg to scratch what itches. A story as old as time? The circle of life? The food chain? Just the way it is, I’m afraid. I know some people are now having their yards sprayed by the Mosquito Man. Sorry, we’re not going for that here.”
“No worries, my family has lived with summer bugs throughout history. We’re equipped to handle it,” she said. “We gotta be moving on now. We’ll be back later today.”
“Oh — we’re going to be gone this week — it’ll be real quiet around here. Be well!” I called after her, feeling grateful for the inspiration and morning chat.

