It seems difficult for me to believe that the rabbit wouldn’t hear the predator following it, but it seems equally unlikely that the predator could have been sitting motionless in the goldenrod stems while the rabbit hopped right past it. Ultimately, I have no way of knowing which scenario unfolded, but it was clear that the rabbit had made a mistake.
Perhaps it was a young rabbit, or perhaps it wasn’t feeling well. There is also the idea that the rabbit had done this particular thing a hundred times without incident, and that the presence of a predator was thoroughly and completely unexpected. I’ve seen a variety of tracks in my yard over the years, but most of them have been the tracks of squirrels, rabbits, deer and wild turkeys. Tracks made by predators are few and far between.
Whatever led up to the encounter, the outcome was fairly easy to read. The predator had launched itself from the goldenrods and apparently missed the mark. Perhaps the rabbit ducked, or perhaps it moved at the last instant, but it managed to avoid capture for another few seconds. The predator adjusted its attack and within a couple leaping strides it caught up to the rabbit, which, in a state of complete panic, may have been betrayed by a moment’s indecision.
The predator lowered its head and managed to seize the rabbit. There was a struggle, but the predator was now in control of the situation. The rabbit kicked its feed in the air. Feet that normally would have propelled the rabbit to safety had nothing to push against, but the desire to run could not be ignored. Right down to its last breath the rabbit was trying to escape, but that was never going to happen. The predator bit down with great force and the rabbit went limp; dying a sudden death in the dark.
Now the predator had to decide where to take its prize. West was the direction it took. It headed off across the top of the crunchy snow with the rabbit safe and secure in its jaws. The hind legs of its victim dragged along the ground, making a pair of parallel furrows in the soft powder that lay upon the surface of the crusty snow beneath. Then it was off into the darkness, where it could find a little privacy to enjoy the fresh meal. It couldn’t wait too long because the rabbit would start to freeze.
I never saw any of this happen. All I saw was an odd mark upon the snow on a Friday morning as I was filling up the bird feeders before heading out to work. The tracks that initially caught my attention were the ones that the predator had made when it was dragging the limp rabbit across the snow. I went into the house, grabbed a pistol-grip spotlight that my brother-in-law had given me as a gift (thank you, Louis), and was amazed by the story written in the snow.
But what predator had done this? I was very unhappy that I had to go to work. All I could do was cross my fingers and hope that there was no more snow and no wind that would erase the story before I could look at it more carefully. So, I went to work. I came home and discovered that I had gotten really lucky. The tracks were still there, but would they survive the night so I could get a look at them on Saturday morning? Tune in next week to see what I discovered.
Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 21 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the U.S. Forest Service and Massachusetts State Parks and currently teaches high school biology and physics. Visit speakingofnature.com for more information, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.