For Easter.

There are three bunnies playing together on the lawn outside my sliding glass door. And when I say "playing together," I don't mean that they're just milling around in the same general vicinity, because I know that humans often amuse themselves by anthropomorphizing any group of more than one member of a species as having some sort of endearingly playful societal relationship, and that's not what I'm doing here.

No, they are balls-out, gloves-off playing a game, and it has rules I don't fully understand. (Although my cat, GenV, really wants to get out there and referee.)

The bunnies set themselves up facing each other, about four feet apart, locked in a Jets-versus-Sharks-gangsta-stare-down. They are intensely still, save the occasional whisker twitch or narrowing of the eyes. Then, just when you wish they had opposable thumbs so that they could start slowly snapping their fingers and approach each other in dangerously rhythmic steps, one of them will suddenly run straight at the other, like a little bunny piledriver. And right at the point when you think Bunny #1 is going to totally take out Bunny #2 in what can only result in a situation that will require a little bunny stretcher, Bunny #2 jumps straight up into the air as Bunny #1 zooms right underneath him.

By the time Bunny #2 lands back in the same spot, Bunny #1 is drawing to a stop halfway across the lawn, all "whaaa?" as he looks around for his missed target. Then Bunny #2 becomes the charger and runs, hell-bent, at Bunny #3, who was kind of minding his own business over there, munching on a tasty piece of grass, when he looked up and saw crazy-ass Bunny #2 steamrolling toward him. So, of course, he jumps straight up in the air and lets Bunny #2 go flying by underneath him, and lands facing Bunny #1, who has wandered back over to watch and take notes. The three of them keep charging at each other, and popcorning into the air to avoid being hit, charging and hopping, charging and hopping.

It's exactly the kind of game I would play if I were a bunny.

As I looked away from their game to write this, something clearly went down. Somebody either fouled somebody else or took the trash-talking too far, because now there are only two bunnies, and they are sitting, stock-still, with their backs to each other. They look like really pissed-off bookends, and are obviously no longer speaking, except for the occasional “Oh, whatever, you knew I wasn’t ready.”

Alright, so I may have anthropomorphized a little bit.