Suzanne and Roger were waiting at Three Palms.
They had a story for me. Suzanne told the story just as if it was
happening right then.
Suzanne's story:
When we get to the beach, we climb to the ridge of a dune. The wind is
a gentle breeze and the reeds make a soft, sushing sound.
I see a movement in the reeds.
'Roger, Roger,' I shout. 'Come quick. We have company.'
Roger dashes over. I'm on my knees, separating the reeds with my
hands to see better. Roger helps and we see a baby jackrabbit.
We stare at the jackrabbit and don't move. We don't want to frighten
the baby jackrabbit and, of course, the baby jackrabbit doesn't want to
frighten us.
A rustling sound comes from behind a clump of reeds off to the side,
and out jumps a fully grown jackrabbit. It's as big as a cat, but has long,
flapping ears and a cotton-ball tail, which cats don't have.
The grown jackrabbit rushes to the baby and, with its mouth, grips the
back of the baby's neck and lifts it up. This must be the baby's mother,
because that is the way most parent animals carry their young.
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