August 11, 2023 – Long ears, large back feet, big dark eyes, a rusty brown coat, and a small round fluffy white tail that looks like a cotton ball, last seen nibbling grasses at the edge of a brush pile early this morning. That general description matches only one creature known to inhabit the thickets and the brushy areas here in Northeastern Illinois, the prolific and celebrated Eastern cottontail rabbit. Besides those remote thickets and brushy areas, the cottontail is a common sight around farmsteads, along rural roads, and even in urban yards and parks. Where there is cover and a food source, cottontail rabbits are most likely nearby. Sometimes the cottontail is a nuisance to hobby gardeners, a nemesis to some, provoking an ongoing battle of determination between species. Cottontails are prey for hawks, foxes, snakes, coyotes, domesticated carnivores, and even humans. The quick and alert bunnies always have a nearby fast escape route down a small shadowy path and into the thickest of cover, where they can hold tight until the danger is gone. Cottontails are, unfortunately for them, a winter game to hunters using dogs, usually beagles, to find the hunkered rabbit and start the chase; when pursued, the cottontail will run in large circles coming back near where the chase began trying to throw off the pursuer. During the great depression, the Eastern cottontail and other small game became a necessary meat source for many hungry Americans. The cottontail fell victim to snares, clubs, and guns, most certainly thinning out the local rabbit populations during that difficult and needy time. Native Americans would use the soft rabbitskins for blankets, clothing, and slippers for their newborns and toddlers to keep them toasty warm on those cold winter nights. One early account describes a Chippewa-made rabbitskin baby blanket, sewn with fifty to seventy skins and measured fifty inches square. The cottontail rabbit helped stave off hunger and provided protection from the elements during the hard times for humans; it has found a place in the lore and literature of generations, passing on life lessons in song, poetry, children’s books, and oral tradition. We all have stories of the Eastern cottontail rabbit, and I remember a frosty morning in Grampa’s leafless sleeping orchard; a small pile of yellow apples lay mostly brown and rotting near a stump. There was a thicket at the edge with cockleburs and briars, brown, sticky, barbed, and tangled; my 12-year-old face was red from the cold air, it was an unusually chilly late November, and the wind came with a sting. Suddenly with a step that crunched and smashed the frozen weeds, the explosion startled me; a cottontail, a blur of fur, darts from its hiding place, and for that brief moment, I had all but forgotten the bitter wind that tortured me. But the trickster was gone, over the rise and out of sight. After a pause and a sniffle, my heart resumed its usual rhythm, and the chill set in once more. Next time you see that little cottontail out there nibbling the grasses in your yard, take a moment and think about the long history of that resident of the briar patch and its deep connection to man.
