A cottontail rabbit stretched, then settled, into what, for a bunny, was a relaxed posture, and began to soak up the sunshine. She was clearly visible on the path that borders the acequia (irrigation ditch in New Mexico) with cover nearby, but not surrounding her. I was struck by her willingness to take this risk, to expose herself in this way for no apparent reason other than enjoying the soothing warmth of the morning sun. A rabbit lives in a state of constant vigilance, or a rabbit does not live long. Coyotes, hawks, owls, raccoons, dogs, cats — none will miss an opportunity to enjoy bunny for breakfast.
Clearly, she hadn’t done this without assessing the risks. I know from my daily walks along that path that there is a bunny-sized depression under the fence behind her, allowing a swift escape to the nearby farm shed. This shed is favored by rabbits throughout the year; with lots of giant farm machinery to serve as cover, and tunnels under the building to provide shelter from all kinds of weather and pursuing predators. Although she was visible to me, with my hawk’s eye view from above — she also had a 360 degree view of the world around her, and her enormous ears could swivel like radar to glean the sound of even the lightest approaching footsteps.
I was taken by this moment, and I took the opportunity to document it with my camera. It caused me to consider the parallels with our human lives during the Coronavirus. We are so much more vigilant — as we must be, if we want to stay healthy. If we are fortunate enough to have a home, we consider the risks of every action we take outside that shelter. Do we go to work, if we have a job that requires us to do so? Or do we stay home, to protect ourselves and our families and risk the inability to pay our bills. If we have a job that puts us at high risk of exposure, do we isolate ourselves from our loved ones when we return home to protect them? Perhaps in the garage, or if we can afford it, another abode, however lonely? Do we venture out for food and other necessities? Yes, probably, but we don’t do so without considering the risk. How many people will we encounter? Will they be wearing masks and gloves to protect us? Must we sanitize the box of cereal we bought? Do we engage in a social distancing hike with our partner, or a socially distanced happy hour with a few beloved friends or family? Or might some accidental cough, or sneeze, or touching of a surface infect one of us?
Like the bunny, we have little choice about venturing out for true necessities to sustain our bodies; therefore, we take the risks to do so, and protect ourselves and others as best we can. But the actions that sustain our souls — walking or cycling outdoors, connecting with a friend or family member at a “safe” distance, or continuing to care for the grandchildren whose parent may be a serious risk of exposure due to her work — these things require a deeper and much more searing analysis of the potential risks versus rewards. Such human connections are our moment in the sun — and they sustain us too. But at what potential cost? No one has these answers. All we can do is remain vigilant and yet as relaxed as possible while we make our own decisions.
