Perhaps I’ve read too much Winnie the Pooh, or my vision of animals in the wild has been compromised by a lifetime of Bugs Bunny cartoons, but I’ve started believing that animals communicate with each other in a way that is as casual as a member of the human race nodding to someone he recognizes on the street.
This morning, I opened the blinds, and saw a jackrabbit, tall and proud, stock-still in the center of my backyard. I’ve watched the local rabbits long enough to know this is a freeze response meant to confuse a predator that depends upon his perception of motion to find his prey. To a hungry hunter, a frozen jackrabbit would be just as attractive as a tree stump. One flick of the ear, however, could mean breakfast is on the way.
Ergo, frozen rabbit on the lawn means one of the local cats is probably in the vicinity. And yes, across the yard, standing as nonchalantly as it he were weighing the benefits of grooming a body part versus taking a nap, was my neighbor’s orange tabby.
The cat wasn’t even looking at the rabbit. Not that I want anything bad to happen to the bunny, but in the natural order of things, cats chase rabbits. Since I am merely a human being who chose to move into their habitat–well, the cat isn’t exactly a native species–far be it from me to upset the natural order. Plus, kitty looked like he’d put on a few extra pounds, and perhaps chasing wildlife (catch-and-release, please) would give him some much-needed exercise.
But the cat didn’t even seem to register that something chase-worthy was nearby. Although it’s hard to tell with cats, sometimes. They could be standing there, all James Dean, but maybe through some kitty radar they know every iota of what’s going on around them and are just too cool to get excited by it. So maybe the cat is just messing with the rabbit’s head.
This must be the case, because the cat, still not appearing to notice the rabbit, flops down into the grass, facing in the opposite direction.
I think the rabbit, being the party with the most to lose from an interaction with the cat, has worked out an agreement: you don’t mess with me, I don’t eat your family’s tomatoes and crap all over their lawn.
Or perhaps they’ve seen me through the glass door every morning, scrutinizing their moves, and this apparent unnatural act performed by frightened bunny and nonchalant cat is for my benefit. Or just to mess with me.
Yeah. That’s gotta be it.
It’s disturbing how easily I’m entertained.
