In the Beginning: The Burrow at Mussel Creek

Honey’s burrow lay on the side of a grassy knoll just beyond the woodshed, nestled between Mussel creek and the garden. Mountains, and the Douglas fir and Port Orford cedar that grew on them, as well as the ocean into which the small creek flowed, protected her burrow. Here and there were patches of huckleberry, salmonberry, and little wild Oregon blackberries; they were the best! Nearby to the east was the log cabin in which the family of people lived, though they were there only in the summer. In back of the log cabin was a stand of old apple trees that provided food for Doris deer and her family, trees planted by the old postmaster who lived in the original cabin and who put them in the ground when no one came to pick up the delivery, long ago in the time before time. 

Honey had three brothers: Em, the eldest, was gentle and joyful; he made Honey feel special and happy. Tee was strong and protective; he made her feel safe and secure. And An, the youngest, was thoughtful and deliberate; he made Honey feel confident. Collectively, her brothers gave her the courage to be adventuresome, to take risks, and to be herself completely because she knew that they would always be there for her, no matter what! Yet it was her mother and father who gave the love and affection that saw Honey through the hard times, and there were hard times. They were the touchstone, just as she would become, in time, the touchstone for others. But more of that later.

Honey was a common brown rabbit whose family, many generations ago, had come from across the ocean that had no end and had settled on the banks of Mussel creek because the grass was green, the soil fertile, and the water clear. The berry bushes and maidenhair ferns provided protection, and though it rained frequently, it never got cold. Honey had many aunts, uncles, and cousins, and they gave her a sense of security and a sense of history. Honey knew who she was and from where she had come. The exciting part, though, was what she would become, and besides her family, the adventures with her friends in the forest would help her find out.

Sammy salmon, one of her closest friends, lived in the dark pool of still water just under the bridge that connected the log cabin with the main drive up Mussel creek. Sammy liked to have fun, always playing tricks and laughing, but he was also smart; Sammy knew about the rivers and oceans, and he knew how to avoid getting caught, a very important quality in the life of a fish! Then there was Mr. and Mrs. Bear, and their two cubs. They were a close family, and though Mr. and Mrs. Bear were pretty serious, the cubs were always getting into mischief and running away from bees. Sometimes Buckey beaver came around, and so did Sarah snake, but the one friend who looked over Honey the most and made sure she never got into too much trouble was Owl; he was her wisest friend and he was always nearby, even though she sometimes didn’t know it. Honey’s two best friends, though, were Kujo and Sally.

Kujo lived on the other side of Mussel creek, often in a hollow log or an abandoned hole or next to the trunk of an old growth Douglas fur. Kujo was an angora rabbit who had escaped from the city to live in the country; no one knew why he left or from where he had come, but he had no known family. Kujo was wily; he knew how to avoid danger and how to get out of trouble. In the city, Kujo learned to be streetwise; in the country, he learned to survive. But if Kujo was cautious, Sally squirrel was curious, always wanting to know why things were the way they were. Sally asked A LOT of questions; she was persistent, clever, and determined. Sometimes these qualities got her into trouble, and Honey too!

These were Honey’s friends, and they made the forest her favorite school, sometimes fun and joyful, sometimes dangerous and scary, but always exciting! Mostly, they taught Honey that to be a happy rabbit, she had to overcome fear, and the best way to overcome fear was to face fear! It was a lesson Honey would come to learn well.

But in the woods surrounding Mussel creek there was also much danger, Foxie for one! Honey was never safe when Foxie went on the prowl because Foxie was always, always hungry! And Wolfie was no friend either; he lived with his family up the creek, and they were collectively known as the neighborhood bullies. They caused trouble just to cause trouble, and no one Honey knew wanted to be around them, ever! Forest fires were also a constant source of worry, but it was mostly people who really scared her, those who cut down the trees, or bulldozed the ground, or left the land a mess and the water polluted. Not all people were bad, not those who lived in the log cabin, but on the whole, she was one bunny who preferred to avoid people she did not know!

The people she did know, though, were good to Honey and her family. They let the warren live in peace, they did not allow hunting, and they planted beautiful gardens. There were nasturtiums and roses and blue bells, and a long hedge of English boxwood along the driveway. Next to the ancient cabin was a large stone chimney supporting an equally ancient purple wisteria, and over one window a sign carved in cedar read: “Camp Anna.” There were always good smells coming from the house; the mother made fresh bread, the children helped their father make berry jam and berry pie, and they all kept the fires going. A big boy named Ben looked after the children and made sure they were safe. Sometimes they swam in a swimming hole when it got hot or played games in the orchard. Sometimes they celebrated birthdays on the front porch, and sometimes they just read books and told stories, but to Honey, it always seemed good.

Next to the warren was a vegetable garden surrounded by a tall wire fence to keep out rabbits who tried to burrow in below and deer who tried to jump in above. The vegetables were lush and fresh: lettuces, tomatoes, beans, radishes and squashes. Next to the garden on the top of a telephone pole was a large light that went on every night and seemed to make the plants grow into giants that came alive and swayed in the evening breeze.

This was Honey’s home. Under a clear night sky, there was no safer place. Stars sparkled like brilliant diamonds, purple trees ringed the horizon, and the damp earth smelled sweet. The night sounds, sunny moon, and ripple of Mussel creek made Honey feel good, and so she slept soundly, anxious always for the next day’s adventures.

Owl’s Corner

“When we are young, our task is to find out who we are, and we do that by challenging our self to explore new boundaries, by testing our inner resources, by listening to advice, but not always taking it.

When we are in middle age, our task is to become what we were meant to be, and to do that with all our resources, all our ability, all our talent.

When we are old, our task is to reflect on who we are and what we have done, to understand that we are more than ourselves, more than the activity in which we have spent many years; we are the collective history of our ancestors.

The search for who we are must end with the search for those who have come before, for without them we would not be. “You” would not “be” if it were not for your parents, and they their parents, and so on, for many, many, many years.

And yet, how much life does the universe hold? It may be true that from dust we come, and to dust we shall return, but precisely because of that reality, is not life infinitely more sacred? All life is a miracle. And we, perhaps amongst the thousands, millions of stars and planets, may be the only one to hold it.

Therefore, we recognize a reverence for life, the lily as well as the lamb, the green grass as well as the blue bird, the young boy as well as the old woman. All are precious, all deserve respect, humility, and honor. Celebrate life, not dust. Make meaning where none exists; that is what artists do, whether a painter, sculpture, ceramist, or musician. Make something out of nothing; that is what life means, to make something out of nothing.

Peace be with you my dear bunny Honey. Peace be with you.”

Celebrate life! Honor Life. Respect life. It is so, so rare, so valuable, so special. We are all gardeners; we simply have different beds to hoe. But it makes no difference; hoe well and often. Celebrate each violet, each egg, each person. Dance for them; love them. For they are the seeds of the future.

From dust we may come, and to dust we may return, but life, too, comes from dust; you come from dust.

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