Featured: Rabbit Butter Dish

Growing up I lived in Hockessin, Delaware a tiny town 25 minutes outside of Wilmington, DE.  Our house was located at the top of a hill in a small neighborhood surrounded by woods, rolling hills, creeks and miles of undeveloped land. For such a small neighborhood, there was a gang of kids and we all played together. We spent countless hours outside in the woods, playing tag, building forts, and exploring the endless creek beds searching for hidden treasures. 

During the fourth grade, a neighbor and I spent a great deal of time on a large rock located next to the rushing waters of our favorite creek.  To get there, we wound through trails lined with may apples, ferns, and poison ivy. In our imaginations, that rock was our house. We cleaned it with leaf-covered branches that we dipped in the water and ate meals of bologna, kool-aid powder, and bright orange cheese balls stolen from our respective cupboards.  

While rabbits were abundant in the area, we didn’t see them often in the woods. But one day, atop that rock, as we ate our feast with hands and arms covered in pink calamine lotion ( remember ….poison ivy) we both froze when we saw a fat, brown rabbit nearby. I really wanted to pet that wild rabbit. I imagined that if we were nice enough and patient enough we could convince that rabbit to be our pet, at our house, on the rock.  So I carefully tossed a cheese ball in its direction as an offering. I wanted to show the rabbit that we were kind and we shared. The rabbit ignored the cheese ball. We sat there, still silent, and watched the rabbit sniff and hop until I couldn’t stand it anymore and I said in the quietest, nicest voice I could muster “here rabbit, rabbit” and off it went.