We took our daily siesta in the shade of some bushes, too hot to hike further until the sun sank lower in the sky. Dad and Nat were snoozing while I read a book.
Suddenly, high pitched squeaking emits from the tangle of dead bushes and branches next to me. I peer in, and the snake I had admired 45 minutes earlier was in there, smacking its lips as only a snake can after gulping down a living thing. Bits of white fluff stick to the corners of its mouth.
“Oh no!” I exclaim as a mother rabbit runs in, jumps at the sight of the snake and runs back out. She sat 20 feet away, eyes big and ears alert as the snake took its time digesting what was once her happy home.
I am ashamed to report that the people I call my family didn’t really care. They kept sleeping as I mourned the baby rabbits.
I know, I know. Snakes have to eat, too. I just prefer they do it far from me!