Stewardess

I do what I can to take care of the land and the animals who share it with me. I put extra water on the ground each morning and afternoon as I water the horses so the Ladies, the little blue desert butterflies, will flutter around and drink. The watermelon rinds and extra foodstuffs that would normally go into someone's trash or disposal goes out for the kangaroo mice, rabbits, and wrens, which amuse Cat and I each morning as they discover the new bounty.

Certain other items are left out, WAY out, for the ant kingdom, because they aren't going anywhere anytime soon, I make sure they are happy away from the house. And they are. Sure, we've had our invasions, especially during pending rain and when I drop the slightest piece of cat food on the floor... I commit mass murder, seal up the hole, and make an offering to the gods, whoever they may be. Some ants, in turn, become feast for the Gentlemen, the three large lizards that dwell here, and so they are kept happy as well. They, too, come around when I turn on the water, waiting for their turn to drink. They are very polite.

Once I even rescued a young ground squirrel from the horse trough. I heard some scratching sounds one morning, and went over to find this wet furball with giant black eyes paddling at the sides of the barrel. I put in a heavy wood platform, and stepped back... it jumped right up on the wood, and LOOKED at me... then jumped to the edge of the barrel, and LOOKED at me again... I told him he was safe now, go on home, and he left the cutest little wet feetprints on his way.

But today I buried a baby cottontail rabbit.

I went out to do my afternoon feeding and watering, and saw it in the barrel, floating right next to the platform. Since I have used that platform, I have not had to rescue one single bee, moth, or anything else that gets in... but today, somehow, that failed.

He was heavy with water when I gently pulled him out. At the bottom in the sediment, he left signs that he tried his best to help himself. I lay him on a flat rock while I emptied the water, which will certainly be appreciated by the Ladies and Gentlemen. From the shed I scavenged a plastic bucket lid and a crowbar. When I transferred him to the lid, I had to do a double-take at the life-like image left by the wet body on the rockface. It had a certain kind of presence, for lack of a better word.

Out in the sun, I heft that crowbar through what seemed like solid rock, out by the other fenceline, in the weatherbeaten desert. Sweat pouring off me, I could feel my body dessicating in that short time, like the vibrant energy and life-fluids were just disappearing. Finally I was satisfied with the depth of the little grave, not so deep that some hungry someone may not find a sustaining morsel, and not so shallow that it would be a rotting poison for a time. That, I learned from a friend, who also had to bury someone in the desert.

When I lay him to rest, I faced him East, so he could see the sunrise each morning, and put a rock 'pillow' under his head so his neck stayed straight. I pulled his saturated little cottony tail back upright, where it belongs, for when he runs through... wherever. Without noticing at first, I became aware that I was talking to it, saying things unconsciously... and as the hot dirt covered him, from back to front, I found/heard myself saying, "See you in the Next Time, Baby. See you in the Next Time."

By the time I returned to the flat rock, his image had disappeared.
I don't know why it had to happen.