So, yesterday, I attempted to do a good deed. Unfortunately, I think maybe my deed should have been left undone!
On my way to run some errands with my Dad, I encountered a wild baby bunny just sitting in the middle of an intersection in my Dad's subdivision. I approached the baby, expecting it to either hop away, or be dead. Instead, the little bunny, still breathing, and not bleeding anywhere, allowed me to pick it up. As I examined him/her, I discovered a large, gaping wound on it's back right behind it's ears, at least two inches in diameter and very grizzly looking.
Being the animal lover that I am, I determined that this little baby was my job to rescue. I turned the car around, pointed it in the opposite direction of the errands we needed to run, and drove the bunny to my vet's office. When I entered and explained what I had in the palm of my hand, I was told that they did not have a wildlife license and could not treat a wild animal. Also, the only vet in the office that day was allergic to rabbits. They told me there was a wildlife rescue center located about an hour away and gave me the phone number. Luckily, the rescue center was actually only about 20 minutes away from the BMV title bureau, which was on my errand list that day.
When we got to the rescue center I learned alot about wild cottontails, things I now wish I had known when I first spotted my poor little victim sitting in the road. First of all, cottontails have a wonderful defense mechanism to protect them from predators. Their fur is actually a protective layer that is designed to pull away and rip easily without blood loss. When a predatory animal attacks and rips away chunks of fur, that's all they get. The rabbit can leave the animal with the fur in it's mouth and escape unscathed. That was the wound that my tiny little friend had... something had grabbed it and ripped away the fur, but everything underneath was perfectly fine.
Second, cottontails, for some unexplainable reason NEVER survive in captivity. They don't even put them in zoos because, no matter what, they always die within a few hours of being contained. So, because of this, combined with the fact that I was so far away from where I had picked him up; and the fact that he had already been in a box for over an hour; and that I still had a few things to do before I could go back home; they determined that the best thing for the little ball of fur would be to release him there near the rescue center.
So, to sum up... in my attempt to rescue a poor little baby animal I managed to take a little guy who was perfectly ok, remove him from his home, traumatize him, and drop him off more than an hour away from his home and family. Nice. Thankfully, I have two things to cling to for the hope that I didn't do anything too terribly bad. First, I got the stunned animal out of the street where he stood a good chance of turning up as the special of the day at the "Road Kill Cafe"; and second, they assured me at the rescue center that, although tiny, he was more than old enough to be on his own.
All-in-all, I walked away from the experience a little wiser about wild rabbits. Next time I'll just move the bunny off the road and let it be. Also, from the experience at my vet's office, I've determined that I'm really greatful I'm not an animal. Can you imagine walking into an emergency room with a gaping wound and being told, "gee, I'm sorry, the only doctor we have on-call this evening is allergic to blondes...."
Happy Birthday, Isaac!
10 years ago