Autocorrect, that lurking banana skin of the keyboard, tried to title this A Naturist’s Diary. But given that it’s been –20°C some nights and the snow flirting with my kneecaps, I assure you: no naturists are involved. And no, this isn’t a promo for any of my books or photos either. It’s a Naturalist’s Diary about wild rabbits.
For several years I’ve been watching the wild rabbits (technically cottontail hares) that wander into our garden. The first one, many summers ago, we named Woomba Wabbit.
