The bunny hops across the downspout over the matted brown grass, landing partially in a persistent patch of snow reluctantly giving up its presence on this early spring morning.

He places his hind legs and tail in the caramel colored camouflage of strewn leaves lost amongst last year’s dead grass.  Leaning into the snow, his nose pokes beneath to scout out a likely spot to forage for food. White fur tufts peek out from beneath his grey-brown coat, tangling their snowy likeness in their struggle to continue their cloaking capability.  The warm weather prior to this last snowfall ushered in the uncovered landscape that prompted the bunny’s changing outer cover, but now he is caught between the two seasons having already tucked away his winter garb.

The bunny peruses and pauses to determine the possible merits of staying in place on the refreshing mound of snow or bounding over towards the trees where his body could blend into the bark mulch, barely noticeable to the next backyard visitor.

Oh darn, he senses my movement through the kitchen window.  Alerted, his ears at attention, he instinctively hops under a spruce tree becoming completely sheltered, covered over by the bending boughs.  I refill my coffee cup, grab my camera and breath gently as if my calming presence could resonate within him, while he huddles and reassesses his next move.

As I watch and wait, I’m not entirely certain that he is still there, the low-hanging branches obscure my view.  Then a twitching nose stretches out to sift through the silence for any immediate danger.

“It’s okay, the yard is safe,” I think as if I could master a mind message to a bunny!

He looks up, seemingly to lock eyes with mine, suddenly seizing the moment to hop forward, flopping his feet firmly over the remnants of snow to a circular, protected area under the lilacs.  I’m certain he sends me a grateful acknowledgement before he bends over to snuffle and sort through the dirt.  He’s found a feast of seeds that only yesterday were scarfed and scattered by the hungry magpies.  I recall pounding on the window in an attempt to make them flee from the bird feeder hanging on the branches.

At the time I had wanted to shoo them away so the chick-a-dees could enjoy a treat.  Little did I realize then that their magpie chaos would create a delightful bunny breakfast surprise this morning in my backyard.