Now, I’m fairly certain that I didn’t imagine this.
Twice now, when I’ve been out for a run through an industrial estate in my home town, I’ve witnessed the same thing. I’ve been plodding along, lost in the raw natural beauty of a dozen identical distribution centres, when I’ve seen a rabbit.
Nothing unusual there.
I’ve also seen a bird.
Again, unless you’ve been spent your entire life living at the bottom of the sea, that’s nothing out of the ordinary.
But they were together.
And it was the way they were together. It was the same on both occasions: They were sat right next to one another side by side, not fighting, not trying to eat each other. It was just like two old mates chewing the fat and watching the world go by. And then, when this big clumsy runner blundered along and disturbed them, there was the briefest of pauses (did I imagine that momentary sense of embarrassment? That feeling of “Please don’t tell our mates about this”?) and then they both bolted in opposite directions1.
I have no idea whether it was the same bird/rabbit on both occasions. Maybe there’s some sort of bizarre Montague/Capulet thing going on. Or maybe they weren’t the same ones, and bird/bunny relations are just at a more advanced stage than I’d realised. Or what if both of them were in fact birds, but one of them was wearing a convincing rabbit costume for reasons I’m not quite ready to think about yet.
I’m going to have a lie down. Here, have some pictures…
1 Well, not exactly opposite. The bird went up, on account of it being a bird. The rabbit ran off somewhere but stayed firmly on the ground, on account of it not being a bird or owning a helicopter.
BIT AT THE END
Hello nice blog-reading person. That’s an ace jumper you’re wearing. Really brings out the colour of your ears. Anyway, cards on the table, there are actually only two people who read this blog: You, and the speccy one out of Scooby Doo. It’d be great if you could spread the word and share some links to your favourite posts on the Facebookses or the twitters. Or maybe you could scrawl “born to plod = ace” on a bedsheet and tie it to a busy roundabout. The Internet has promised me a basket of kittens for every million hits I get, and I’m hoping to get enough to start a farm. Ta