My gal, Wednesday in "No Bebeh Bunnies!"

Ok, for any of you that don't know me, I love critters. I have wonderful relationships with all my beasties, but some are just far closer than others. My dog , Wednesday is one of those critters. She goes just about everywhere with me and her favorite "go to" place is the farm. She runs free, loves the woods and creek, and the way the chickens run when she blasts past them.

Well, just last weekend we were down at the camp doing what work we could in the weather we had. Jerome and the kids were sleeping in the big camper with Hiro (our Akita) and Wednesday and I were sharing the small camper. Big camper has heat, little camper..we're on our own. Temps would be in the mid-30 range that night. Ok for dogs and people, not so great for pampered birds.
It happened that Tpau, our cockatiel was egg bound and the vet had done what he could. Now it was up to her to pass the egg shell. She was still needing me to give her shots, twice a day. So Tpau went on her first camping trip. Remember, pampered birds need to be kept warm, little camper no heat. BUT, being the ingenious woman I am (LOL! Couldn't say that with a straight face!) I heated rocks in the fire pit, loaded them in a pan, screen over the top for safety and placed it next to her cage, covering it all with a blanket. Result, toasty warm tent for Tpau on the kitchen table. Wednesday and I turned out the lights and drifted off.

About 4 am I awoke to a chilly camper, though snuggly in my bed. I check the rocks and they were lukewarm. Time to change them out. Wednesday begrudgingly got up and stretched as I put on my shoes. I grabbed the pot 'o rocks on my way out to the fire pit. Dumped out the old to reheat, grabbed the hot with tongs, and headed back to an unhappy-to-be-woken-in-the-middle-of -the-night bird. But the hot rocks were the ticket to her contentment and she settled down in no time. I called for Wednesday to get back in the camper, she took her time of course. As soon as she crossed the threshold of the camper she looked like she heaved and vomited...no, not vomit. Thank the Creator I had the lights on, if I had stepped in what she she tossed up I would be freaked out the rest of my life.

Wednesday looked at me with a happy face and said, "Wanna share a midnight snack?"" ((SHUDDER))  There lay two, nekkid, blind, writhing bebeh (baby) bunnies!!
Yargh!!
"Wednesday!! How could you?! No bebeh bunnies! No bebeh bunnies, ever!! They can't run! They are defenseless!! Never! NO! No! Bad, dog! No bebeh anythings allowed! No! Tell me you didn't eat one! Did you!? Did you eat one!!?" You better not have..."

BUUUURP!!...she says to me....

Now, I know full well that anyone trudging through the woods in the middle of the night hearing "NO, bebeh bunnies!" echoes bouncing off the sides of the hills would have thought a banshee had gone mad, a harpy had lost it's noodle, or if they ever had a mother they would think "Uh oh! Somebody's in for it..."

 Wednesday's ears went down and she looked so ashamed. I know she was meaning it to be a great gift, a present that we could both share. Her idea of us staying up, giggling, swapping girl secrets, braiding each other's hair and crunching bebeh bunny bones came crashing down around her fuzzy ears. I scooped the bunnies up and saw they were alive, roughed up a bit but nature makes them fairly resilient. Their momma would know what to do better than I, though I figured getting them away from my dog (who was just being a dog) was a good start.

Sleep? What's that?

I put my shoes back on, grabbed a flashlight and opened the door to let Wednesday out. I knew she'd make a B-line for the burrow. She did. It wasn't far. The burrow was lined with tummy fur from their mom, it was kicked out due to my dog's efforts to snap the bunnies up. I pushed some of it back and gently plopped them back in. The burrow was fairly shallow. Not well concealed. Could be a new mom, not use to what predators will do for a meal.
Wednesday watched as I got up and repeated "No bebeh bunnies...no.." She looked at me as if I had stomped on her Mother's Day macaroni picture.
We went back to the camper and I got down on her level and she looked away as if I was going to swat her. I hugged her neck and told her she was a sweet girl to want to share. A brave girl to hunt in the dark. A smart girl to show me where she got them so I could take them back. Her ears perked up, tail wagged, things were ok again. She licked my nose and I silently prayed there were no bunny guts left on my face.