When death darkens the thresh hold it is difficult to maintain a composed façade and not let the heartstrings tug no matter how small the snuffed life may be. My three rabbit babies barely three days old died today. They were born plump and beautiful. Their little buck teeth and over grown nails made me feel like a proud mother though their own mother seemed least interested. I fretted over the litter, got straw from a neighbor who has a cow, made a nest for them with the straw and an old towel but that’s where my work came to an end

Rabbits apparently feed only twice in a day- dawn and dusk and there should be minimal human interference. The interference was minimal on my part but the mother ignored her babies. I trawled the net to see how the little ones could be saved but all the sites claimed that apart from rabbit’s milk no other milk suits the little ones and they tend to die within a week of bloated bellies.

I watched the little ones die and there was nothing I could do. Nature was showing her worst side, the mother had rejected her litter and I was a mute spectator.

Two died early morning and the third just drew his last breath. He will be buried in some quiet corner in the garden along with his siblings and bulbs will be planted on their tiny graves to mark the lives that barely took a few breaths, showed us the miracle of life and the sadness that accompanies death.