Many years ago when our children were very young my husband had built a neat, small shed in the backyard of the first house we owned. He outfitted the interior like a small barn, and in it, and in a small run he built alongside the shed, entirely enclosed by wire fencing, he kept small, fancy chickens, and pigeons. We also had a few rabbits, and in another enclosure at the opposite end of the backyard, we kept a duck.

We had one little Dutch rabbit that we kept in the house. We brought him into the house as a tiny, barely-weaned house-pet. He was never confined to a cage, and eventually became toilet-trained. And, being a very small wild creature he was never completely domesticated in the sense that given the opportunity he would chew and scratch and create quite a bit of damage. We named him Benji and he acquired little habits that we became very fond of.

We'd never think of having a rabbit in the house now, let alone one or two caged. But we do know that there are wild rabbits around where we live, they venture into backyards and some of them live quietly in secure places in some backyards. Our proximity to a large wooded ravine accounts for their presence, no doubt. On the occasion when we glimpse their presence, we're immensely pleased. Since we've put seeds and nuts out for the overwintering birds and squirrels, we've seen at least one little fellow come around regularly.

This has been an inordinately trying winter for wildlife. Nature has been reluctant to allow spring to enter the landscape, bidding winter to linger a while yet. She's unconcerned about the effect that has on her animal creatures, but we're thoroughly fed up with winter this year, and nature is no longer for the moment in our good graces.

Last night when we went up to bed we tarried as usual to see if anyone was around at our feeders and there was the rabbit, munching away. We take pains to approach carefully so that if he or anyone else is at the feeder we won't frighten them. During the day when Riley looks out the door and sees small creatures gathering to eat, he'll bark his fool head off, but they've become accustomed to him and simply ignore him, confident that he poses no threat.

One wonders, how do they know that something solidly dependable separates the potential threat of a larger animal violently diverting them from their comfort at the feeding station?

This morning, when I came down for breakfast, there was the rabbit again, munching contentedly, but warily as rabbits in the wild in urban areas are wont to do. And there too was a red squirrel, neither taking account of the other as representing a disturbance to their comfort levels.