Sorrowful News from the Farmy This Morning.

The mink has killed Nelson the rabbit.

Every summer Nelson lives outside in a shabby old chicken tractor under the big tree but this year I deemed the chicken tractor with its broken door; unsafe. So I brought her into the chicken hospital which is built like Fort Knox – specifically to keep animals safe from predators.

Everything works until it doesn’t and most errors have a collection of causes. This incident was no exception.

I had been distracted with children visiting yesterday; a big family dinner, and the kids and I had been feeding the rabbit scraps. I was hosting a large group and working on getting all the food on the table. Darting back and forth. I did not double check that they had latched the door all the way shut. It was my job to make sure she was secure.

Then last night we got this warning blaring through the phones.

So I quickly ran out and checked the barn doors and the calves. And Nelson’s Easterly door. And the chickens. All the pigs were tucked up in their beds already. Boo would not come outside with me. Any sign of a storm at all and he goes straight under the bed. So I did not have my hunter but that was OK. All seemed well and I was running, and did not do my checks thoroughly enough.

A dust storm caused a 72 car pile up on a highway not far from here the other day, I had never even heard of dust storms and huge dust devils around here before but I did not want to get caught in one.

As the wind blew up, I finished fast and ran for the house. It was around 9pm.

Then these warnings pealed out from the phone.

Then the storm escalated into one of the loudest storms I have experienced here. The electricity went off. The world went mad. I had not been expecting this at all. The wind was relentless and fierce, rocking the house and dropping inches of rain and hail. The lightening lasted literally hours. The storm seemed to be sitting above us. I worried for my cows in the field with all this lightening.

The wind must have blown Nelsons little top Westerly door open. His hutch has strong doors, it was very safe, so the door cannot have been latched properly. And early this morning the bastard mink must have taken advantage of the open door. The bastard. He had probably been sniffing round for days looking for a way in.

Poor Nelson.

Totally my fault.

Here is a little of the dramatic storm that is the sound track to Nelsons eulogy.

The clattering you hear on the video was hail. The continuous roar of wind and rain. The storm was so loud we heard nothing else.

I did hear Mr Flowers shriek his alarm early this morning but I thought he was shrieking at the calves. He is still not used to them being in there.

I was out super early to check the calves (when I discovered Nelsons body) but I must have just missed the mink. Bastard. Boo had refused to come with me – sure that the storm might still get him.

This all pales next to the repeated news we read of violent gunshot deaths here in the USA. Every week it seems to me – it feels like there are more. Schools, homes and supermarkets, streets and shopping malls. It worries me a lot. How unsafe we are. How angry people are. My one rabbit cannot compare.

But there you are; a wee rabbit dies because of my negligence and I feel unfurled. All the misery every single one of us carries because we are human and feel stuff can be triggered by the smallest death.

So the subconscious Sorrow Box, that lives just below our surface, opens its door just a little to let another rose of sadness hop through, then softly closes the door again with a click of the key, and allows us to forgive ourselves and carry on. The Sorrow Box carries it all for us. I have to let her go now.

And you and I carry on. The better for knowing a wee silver wescue wabbit.

Poor old Nelson.

Celi