The Rooster, the Rabbits, and the Raspberry Popsicles

I did not expect to spend the afternoon trudging through a campground junkyard in my wellies, studying the habits of a wary rooster and three rabbits who had made a home among the discarded things. But compassion rarely arrives according to plan. Sometimes it calls from behind a blue rain barrel—and sometimes it requires fresh water, paper bedding, and raspberry popsicles beneath an unforgiving summer sun.

It began like any ordinary evening. I arrived home from work to my two happy Chihuahuas, and we set off on our usual little walkabout. We do not travel as far as we once did. The girls are getting older, and Aria is gradually losing her sight to glaucoma.

Suddenly, I realized that her sister, Diva, had wandered into the neighbor’s area to inspect something lying on the ground. It was a white rabbit I had seen many times before. Sadly, she had died.

There was no obvious sign of a struggle. She appeared thin, perhaps dehydrated, and the discovery made me realize something else: I had not heard the rooster in almost two weeks.

For months, that rooster had awakened me from a sound sleep every morning.

One of my neighbors, who originally kept the chickens, roosters, and rabbits, had experienced a health problem and needed to leave for rehabilitation. I believed the animals had all been collected by his family and friends. After speaking with other neighbors, however, I learned that they had been unable to catch three rabbits and one rooster. Another neighbor had been leaving food for them, which made the rabbit’s death all the more troubling.

I went looking and found the three surviving rabbits—and one very bedraggled rooster. He was missing a considerable number of feathers and could barely manage a crow. Rabbit pellets had been left behind, but there was no appropriate food for him.

Fortunately, in this rural area, the nearest Tractor Supply Company was only five miles away. I bought suitable feed to help him regain weight, along with vitamins and electrolytes for his water and a few treats he might enjoy. I also found Sun Salad, a foraging treat for the rabbits.

Animals accustomed to human care cannot always be released into the world and expected to fend for themselves. Instinct does not necessarily replace the food, water, shelter, and protection they once received. That is one of the difficult truths beneath this story.

This is not about assigning blame. It is about recognizing what has happened—and deciding what can be done next.

The region is enduring an unrelenting heat wave, with temperatures reaching 109 degrees. Most nights remain above 80°F, there has been almost no rain, and the vegetation has turned brown. Fires can start so easily that a burn ban is in effect. Even if these animals knew how to forage successfully, there is very little left for them to find.

Then, at three o’clock one morning, I awakened to coyotes howling and yipping nearby.

So today, wearing my wellies, I ventured into the junkyard to determine how I might coax the rooster and rabbits into safe enclosures. None of them is tame. They will have to learn that I can be trusted.

The rooster is making the greatest progress. I have named him Coco Rico. He will not allow me to touch him, but he comes when I call. He spends much of his time behind a blue plastic rain barrel, where he seems to feel somewhat protected.

While I was preparing a shallow pan for a soothing foot bath, Coco Rico decided to drink from it instead. Perhaps that was his way of editing my treatment plan.

I promised that I would return with frozen treats for him and the rabbits.

Raspberry popsicles are on the menu.

I have not yet found a shelter or rescue able to accept them, and I do not yet know exactly how this mission will unfold. But perhaps that is the important lesson: we do not need to possess the entire solution before we begin helping.

Care can begin with clean water, appropriate food, shade, a patient voice, and the willingness to pay attention.

Heartled Fields has always been about stories, land, creativity, and the things that connect us. Today, that connection looks like three wary rabbits, a tired rooster named Coco Rico, and one woman standing in a junkyard in her wellies, wondering how to make their corner of the world safer.

For now, there is fresh food and water. There are raspberry popsicles freezing.

And there is one more human paying attention.