Everybody Has A Story: Echo of Texas days a Notch above

Leaving our San Diego hometown because of the high housing prices, we settled in Dallas County, Texas, on a huge pie-shaped lot backed by a greenbelt bounded by a willow-bordered golf course.

After we got over the culture shock, we gradually began to take notice of the abundant wildlife in our large yard. Lots of birds including cardinals, which we’d never seen before. Eastern jays, too many squirrels to count and bunnies — the common cottontail.

It was the jays and bunnies that provided most of the entertainment when we started feeding everyone. When the noisy garage door opened, both would rush from their nearby hiding places and wait for treats. We threw peanuts in the shell to the jays and put out multiple clusters of sunflower seeds for the rabbits. To satisfy the squirrels, we put out separate food, far away from the seeds.

We were introduced to one of the rabbits in a most unusual way. Part of our deck surrounded an oak tree and it was there, while sitting in the shade reading the morning paper with legs outstretched, that I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. Without moving I looked to see a bunny hopping toward me.

I saw a notched ear, easy identification as she hopped toward my feet and gingerly smelled my slipper. Then she looked at me, hopped off the deck and ran away. But not for long. She came back with a friend who declined to take a sniff, but immediately began a game of chase. They both ran circles around and under my chair. For wild animals to voluntarily approach without being coaxed was absolutely incredible!

We named her Notch for the distinctive ear, and watched from our kitchen window as she came each morning for her share of seeds. My husband had a beard at the time, and she would hop relatively near him as he put out food.

Some animals seem to prefer a furry face over a shaven face. I could never figure out why Notch wouldn’t come as near to me as she did Ray, and deduced it was the beard. I’ll admit to a bit of jealousy.

We saw Notch have babies in different nests and loved that she chose our place to live year round.

Notch would often be eating grass in the adjoining strip of lawn when we got home, but she never got used to the car and would always run away then return after we got into the house.

Until the last time. As I drove toward the garage, Notch didn’t move. I was so surprised that I walked back to have a look. That’s when Notch tried to hop away and I could see she’d had some kind of injury to her left hind leg. I hoped and prayed it was something minor that would heal on its own.

After a few days passed and we didn’t see her, we had to accept that the injury was most likely fatal. I sat at that kitchen table where we’d watched her so many times and cried my eyes out. We never had another yard bunny like her.

Nine years ago we moved from Texas to Battle Ground. We adapted to the small-town ambience and the lack of wildlife in our small yard. We started feeding the local birds.

One Saturday afternoon a neighbor came for a visit. We told him how, before we left Texas, we had trained jays to take peanuts off the table where we sat, and of course, we told him about Notch. We described how she would wait patiently for her morning treat and how much we truly enjoyed seeing her. I ended the conversation with, “She was the best little bunny.”

The next morning, I felt drawn to look out onto the porch. A cottontail bunny was sitting there, 4 feet away, looking at me.

First she didn’t move. Then she took a hop or two away, stopped, turned and looked at me again. Without hurrying, she hopped to the far side of the porch, scooted under the railing into the day lilies, and was gone.

I’d be hard pressed to deny it was Notch, coming back from heaven for a very welcome visit. We’ve never seen another rabbit in the yard.

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