While in the process of fixing up my new bike, I am relying on my feet and Pittsburgh’s buses for my transport. With a 9:30am French class,most mornings I lay down the first tracks on freshly fallen snow.
The first human tracks that is. I learned this week that my neighborhood hosts dogs ranging in size from cat-prints to those of small bears. Even better are the irregular, leaping, frolicsome rabbit prints.
Growing up I had a poster of wild animal tracks taped to the ceiling above my bed. Specific to the animals of California, I learned the tracks of different sorts of deer, as well as the imprinteurs of possums and raccoons. Before this week, I thoughts the fraidy-rabbit who sometimes froze in the headlight of my old bike was hibernating. I’ve now seen her prints all over my broad lawn as I walk to school.
Getting on the (20 minute late) bus this morning, I complained to my friend that I couldn’t wait until I lived in a real city. But if I must give up early-morning bunny prints to do so, I will have lost something in the exchange.
“Ideas are like rabbits. You get a couple and learn how to handle them, and pretty soon you have a dozen.”–John Steinbeck