Leporidae Lunch

The sun had just risen, casting streaks of light and shadows into Tecolote Canyon. Daisy, the skinny Irish Wolfhound German Shepherd mix lankily bound westward, down the fence line. The barn owl that Daisy was bounding after flapped easily up at the very last moment, screeching in frustration. On the ground lay a small rabbit, eyes still aware but too weak from blood loss to move. It's gaze roamed slowly in its socket; to me, to the sky, off to the distance, back to me. It had one hole in its jugular that had been drained dry by the owl. The dogs were called back inside. A decision was made to prepare and cook the cute but unlucky Leporidae. As it still had some life left the neck was cut clean. I paused for a moment, fully aware of what I was taking as the last few drops dripped to the dirt and the eyes darkened. After the final couple kicks of nerve reflex it was skinned, gutted, and cleaned. It was then cooked and eaten. I paused again and gave thanks to the owl from which the meal was taken. And, again, a final thankful thought was given to the rabbit.