Jack the Easter Rabbit: A hare-raising tale

It was a lazy April Saturday and Jack the Easter Rabbit had slept in that morning. Jack was in charge eastern New Mexico district in the Southwest area of the EBAA (Easter Bunny Association of America).

Jack wasn’t the stereotype of an Easter “Bunny.” He was actually a crook-legged, long-eared Jack Rabbit. No confusing him with Peter Cottontail. Yeah, he wasn’t cute but he was fast and that was a good thing because he had a bigger territory to cover than those city rabbits.

Jack figured he would grab a little breakfast then spend the rest of the day hanging out in the shade of a cholla bush. He needed his rest because this time of year you never knew what kind of weather you would be battling on the big morning.

Last year’s snowstorm was the worst. Wind chill of -4 and drifts so deep he actually began to wish he was a snowshoe hare.

This winter had been much drier than last year and the odds were much better for a sandstorm than a snowstorm.

After a restful day Jack hit the sack early to be ready for Easter morning. The life of an Easter Rabbit requires a body to rise well before the chickens while the moon is still hanging in the Western sky.

Jack made his egg pickup on time and without incident and set out on his route. As he hopped along the prairie he couldn’t help but be a little jealous of Santa Claus with his sleigh, fancy coat and eight reindeer to pull him along. Easter Rabbits are on their own and Jack had a lot of distance to make before little boys and girls began to rise.

Somewhere along a dark country road and well into his rounds Jack was jolted wide awake by the sound of coyotes howling in the distance, then suddenly they were much nearer and seemed to be on both sides of the road. The adrenaline rushed through is lanky body and his long hind legs helped him find another gear and leave the prairie wolves behind.

The predawn dragged on and it seemed to Jack he had already hidden thousands of eggs. The sun was starting to rise as he left a farm house and took a short cut across the pasture through the yucca bushes.

Suddenly he saw the dark outline of a man to his right lifting a shotgun to his shoulder.

“Oh great, just what I needed,” said Jack under his breath as he began to cut a zig zag path across the sandy plain. His efforts were in vain however as the second blast from the 12 gauge rolled him up against a clump of buffalo grass.

The excited hunter hustled over but quickly realized when he saw the Easter basket and eggs on the sand that he had just murdered the Easter Rabbit. His partner topped the sandhill demanding to know why in tarnation his buddy was sobbing.

“I’ve killed the Easter Rabbit,” he cried.

Don’t worry said his buddy pulling a can of spray from his backpack. He sprayed Jack’s limp body all over and soon Jack jumped up and started bounding away. He stopped a short way down the bunny trail and waved back to the hunters then hopped further to the top of the sandhill and turned and waved again and he kept repeating the gesture until he was out of sight.

“What was it you sprayed on that rabbit,” queried the first hunter?

“Hair spray — guaranteed to restore life to dead hair and add a permanent wave.”

Karl Terry writes for Clovis Media Inc. Contact him at: [email protected]