Bunny and the Great River

A wet and cold bunny named Bunny was hungry.

And Bunny was a little bit scared; he had never been so far from his burrow before. In fact, this was actually not true, but in the early morning misty darkness and the heavy dew coating Bunny's fur, it certainly FELT true. And to be honest, Bunny wasn't all too bright, being a somewhat forgetful bunny, and so Bunny forgot the Great Food Party of the previous summer, when he and a bunch of his burrow-mates found a flowery meadow on the other side of the Great River. By the by, the Great Food Party was a memorable event, since it was an exceedingly rare summertime event that the Great River ever shrunk to a mere stream, which allowed for fording even to smallish bunnies like Bunny. But in the murky darkness, the cold fur causing a sniffle or two, and a feeling of urgency pushing Bunny's soppy tail to shiver, it was all Bunny could do to remember his own name.

On this particular morning, the Great River was fairly bubbling, swollen to the tips of the reeds which normally towered over the water's surface. It had rained the night before, and certainly Bunny remembered THAT. It was the water drops wetting the pillow of dirt that Bunny had slept on that had woken Bunny from his dreams of flowery meadows and perhaps even the Great Food Party II. Irate at being turned out from his bed and suddenly hungry, Bunny had left the warm burrow, creeping over the tops of the other snuggling bunnies to find food.

Bunny had sharp eyes, and espied a copse of edibles on the far side of the Great River, but how to cross? If Bunny were a braver bunny, he might have considered a mighty leap, but Bunny was cautious by nature, and only hunger kept Bunny from high-tailing it back to the burrow.

Bunny pawed the damp bank of the river in frustration. Now what?

"Bunny, why are you here?"

Bunny nearly jumped out of his fur. He hadn't heard ANY one creep up from behind. Bunny's ears went erect as he twitched and tried to blend into the soggy reeds.

"Bunny, I said, why are you here!" The Great River, and it really was the Great River talking, was speaking unequivocally to him.

Bunny shrunk to as small of a bunny as he could be, and all of a sudden, Bunny had an epiphany: better not let the questioner wait too long for his answer. Bunny scrunched his eyes closed and covered them with his front paws.

"Hello? I'm Bunny, and I'm hungry." Bunny kept his paws over his eyes, but tried peeking with one eye. Bunny just realized that the Great River already knew who he was, and therefore two-thirds of his response was really unnecessary. Bunny felt awe but wasn't scared in the same way that he would be if he were facing down a stoat, for instance (not that Bunny had faced a stoat before, but by all accounts, that's what most bunnies would feel if facing a stoat).

"Bunny, all that you need I have provided. Go and be at peace." And with that, the Great River receded from the bank, and a muddy path opened through the Great River.

Despite a growing feeling of wonderment and, in fact, Bunny did feel peaceful, it was quite some time before Bunny felt safe enough to take his paws from his eyes, but when he did, the Great River was now a small stream. And there, across the way, was the copse of edibles!

And so Bunny ate his fill, and loped his way back to the Burrow.

Not many of the bunnies believed Bunny when he told the story of when the Great River opened up to make way for Bunny to eat, aka the Great Solo Food Party, mostly because Bunny wasn't all too bright, but Bunny never questioned why it was that the Great River helped him.

To Bunny, it was simple. The Great River provides, and Bunny was at peace.

****

-David