Wild pets are some of the best to have.
They feed themselves, find their own shelter, don't leave hair on the couch and are just low maintenance all the way around.
On the flip side, when they're ready to move on, they don't tend to say good-bye — they're just there one minute, gone the next.
Such was the thought running through my mind earlier in the week when I lifted back the matted grass that had, for about a two weeks, covered a nest full of baby rabbits.
The little trio of tawny, black-tipped bodies was nowhere to be seen, and in their place was a sunken and dried out divot.
It was interesting, I remember thinking as I touched the dried brown grass that remained, because when they had still occupied the small space there had been a sense of life to it, almost as if their warmth had somehow kept it soft and plush.
The original latch key kids, rabbits have an interesting childhood, the majority of which they spend alone.
The mother rabbit makes a fur lined "nest" often in plain sight, however because they are masters of camouflaging it with grass you could stare right at it and never even know it's there.
Or as in my case, you could mow right over it and not realize it until — best case scenario — the little ones start darting around in panic.
A couple of weeks ago when I discovered this particular nest, it was smack dab in the middle of the yard.
Afraid to look but knowing I had to, I bent down and scooped up one of the terrified babies thankful to discover all its hair was in place and its ears were intact. While raising the deck on the mower translated to more work for me, it turned out to be a stroke of fortune for them.
And perhaps even luckier, the babies still hadn't opened their eyes, which means they heard, but never had to see the clanging machine of death as it rolled over them.
I tucked all three of them back into their bed and watched them snuggle in for a minute before I grabbed handfuls of grass and covered them back up.
I have to say, I was overwhelmingly impressed, not so much by my job of baby bunny hiding but more at the wonder of how their mother managed to find them, after I walked away and realized the nest had disappeared from sight.
Especially since she only spends 10 minutes a day with them.
Yep, that's right, bunny moms nurse their young for a couple minutes in the morning and then again in the evening and with mega rich milk that puts power bars to shame, that's it — that's all they need and that's all they get.
They don't come back to check on them, they don't keep them warm, they don't even call to see if they're OK.
Now of course I did eventually find the nest again, and so I made it part of my routine to check on them a couple times a day.
Peeling the grass covering back, I would look to see that everyone was fat and happy and yes, I admit, I petted them a few times, only because they didn't seem to mind.
Talk about living life in the fast lane, rabbits sure are a lesson on the relativity of time, because within three days their eyes were open, and a week later the nest was empty.
Who knows where they went, but they are no doubt eating someone's petunias as I write this.
Sharna Johnson is a writer who is always searching for ponies. You can reach her at: firstname.lastname@example.org or on the web at: www.insearchofponies.blogspot.com