The baby bunny seemed to do all right for about four days, perky and alert and interested in grass and lettuce more than the milk replacer I offered him. He would let me handle him softly, and he recovered enough to start grooming himself. But yesterday he turned lethargic again, spending most of the day facing into a corner of his box. This morning he ate a little and then lay down on his side, which wasn't a good sign. He spent the day quietly lying there, breathing gently, not in any apparent distress but obviously not doing well. I don't know, maybe the shock of his injury was wearing off and he was beginning to feel the effects. At any rate, I could see he wasn't going to survive, so I carried him out to his old birth nest and laid him beside it, near his mother's fur, and tonight he died. I've buried him in my garden.
The woman I spoke to at the wildlife rehab centre said in their 30 years of experience they've never had a wild rabbit thrive in captivity. They are prey animals and are in a constant state of freeze-or-flight around people, which just isn't sustainable. As they get older, their instincts just get stronger, and it isn't any quality of life for them to be caged. With Harvey's injuries, I knew there was a strong chance he wouldn't make it, and he'd never be able to return to the wild, but I had to do what I could. I gave him four or five days of peace and safety and the chance to enjoy lettuce, which he really seemed to love. Ultimately, whether he lived or died wasn't my call.
I have a strong belief that animals have souls and a place in God's heart. I am comforted by the thought that he has two siblings with him on the other side, and that he can hop now. Even knowing that, it's still going to hurt for a while.
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