Bunny O'Sullivan and the Hawk

Bunny O’Sullivan and the Hawk

  By Colin Marks

  Copyright 2012 Colin Marks

  For Stan

  Special thanks as always to Mark Mitchell and Allan Jardine for their editing, and Tyler and Katherine for their suggestions. And final thanks to Mr Hogg, who asked for stories as the class homework!

  One day, Bunny O’Sullivan and his eight little kits went out to chomp on Farmer Stubbins’s cabbages. Mother O’Sullivan had decided to stay inside the warren and catch up on some chores.

  ‘There’s too much washing and cleaning to do thanks to you messy lot,’ she complained, ‘I can never keep this place clean.’

  ‘I know that’s what she’s saying,’ Bunny O’Sullivan told the kits, once they were outside in the field, gazing around for the juiciest vegetables, ‘but between you an’ me, I recon she’s been eating too many carrots of late, and she’s tryin’ to lose a few of them pounds.’

  That morning, Farmer Stubbins had ploughed their side of the field, so they had a little further to hop for their lunch. Bunny O’Sullivan bounded across the freshly dug furrows to the nearest, yummiest, cabbages. The colony lined up in a neat row, and on Bunny O’Sullivan’s signal, their mouths dived forward and munched on the cabbages.

  All except one, that is. Bunny O’Sullivan noticed Tufty O’Sullivan staring up into the sky. The little fellow’s whiskers were twitching and his fluffy white tail quivered behind him.

  ‘Something ’ere ain’t right,’ Bunny O’Sullivan thought. He followed his lad’s gaze and saw, circling directly above them, the unmistakable shape of a hawk.

  ‘I ’ate to say it, my little ’uns, but I clear forgot the time. It’s late. I want you all to ’op back to the burrow and get your jimmie-jams on.’

  ‘But Pa,’ Jemima O’Sullivan whined, ‘my tummy is still hungry.’

  Bunny O’Sullivan glanced up. The hawk was flying in a tighter circle, something they do before they get ready to dive onto their prey. ‘Tell ya what,’ he added, staying as cool as a cucumber, ‘how’s about you all go and ask your Ma for one of ’em carroty treats.’

  ‘Yay, carroty treats,’ they all squealed. ‘Can we? Really?’

  ‘Yes, me lovelies!’ he said quickly, ‘off you go, as fast as a fox, or there won’t be time for your bedtime story.’

  The kits didn’t need telling twice, they charged back towards the burrow, their little white tails bobbing about as they went. Only Tufty O’Sullivan remained, his eyes glued to the hawk, his little nose quivering out of fear.

  ‘’Op along now, lad,’ Bunny O’Sullivan called out, ‘or there won’t be any carroty treats left for you.’

  ‘B-b-but,’ Tufty O’Sullivan stammered, ‘what about the hawk. He’ll gobble you up.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me, lad, he looks a reasonable sort. I’ll ’ave a word with ’im and sort things out.’ Out of the corner of his eye, Bunny O’Sullivan noticed the hawk had pulled its wings tight against its body and had started to dive. ‘Now, get going. I’ll be over in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.’

  As he watched him bound off after the others, Bunny O’Sullivan knew they wouldn’t make it back in time to the safety of their burrow, not with their little legs. He shuffled around to face the hawk, wriggled his nose and, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, carried on munching the cabbage.

  The hawk dived lower and lower, his feathers fluttering as he shot through the air. His beady eyes could see the eight white tails bounding across the field, delicious little snacks to be sure, but then his eyes grew wide as he saw the plump and juicy Bunny O’Sullivan. With a wicked grin and his talons ready to grab, he turned and soared straight towards the poor rabbit.

  But then a very odd thing happened. When the hawk was almost upon Bunny O’Sullivan, when his claws were so close to sinking into his furry back, the hawk, with a look of confusion on his face, opened his wings and swooshed down onto the ground. He turned and faced Bunny O’Sullivan, who hadn’t even stopped eating.

  ‘’Ow do?’ said Bunny O’Sullivan, between chomps.

  The hawk raised himself up and strutted around the bunny. He looked him up and down, studying him very, very closely. ‘I do well, rabbit,’ he replied, in a deep, menacing voice. He leaned forward so his sharp beak almost touched Bunny O’Sullivan’s floppy ear. ‘You saw me, didn’t you?’

  ‘Aye, I did. You’re a very good flyer. One of the best, I recon.’

  The hawk puffed out his chest. ‘I’ve heard that said before,’ he smiled proudly. ‘Do you know who I am?’

  Bunny O’Sullivan finally stopped munching and sat up straight. He scratched his nose with his foot before replying. ‘Well, looking at those fine wings and sharp claws, I’d guess you be one of the Stimpson boys, I’ve heard they’re the best hunters in the county. And, since you look very strong, I’d guess you be the eldest, Jack.’

  Jack nodded. ‘Very impressive. You seem quite a smart rabbit.’

  ‘Kind of you to say so, Mr Stimpson.’

  ‘I’m confused though,’ Jack said with a sneer, ‘you’re a smart rabbit, you knew who I was, but you didn’t run. Weren’t you scared?’

  Bunny O’Sullivan glanced across the field and saw that his colony had made it safely to the burrow. They were all huddled together, watching him with worried expressions. ‘I was scared alright, course I was. Who wouldn’t be when they see such a fine hawk as yourself, ’overing overhead.’

  Jack tilted his head, ‘Yet you didn’t run?’

  ‘Well, to be honest, I was starving. I’d found such a lovely cabbage and I was really enjoying it.’ He smiled at Jack. ‘You see, I do my best thinking when I’m eating. It’s about the only time I get any peace and quiet from the missus and my little ’uns. Ooo, between the chattering and the moaning, that lot can make these big ears ache.’ He twitched his nose. ‘I’ve lost my track, what was I talking about?’

  The hawk shook his head in despair. ‘You were wittering on about thinking.’

  ‘Thinking, that’s it. I’m a good thinker me, everybody will agree. Even Rusty the Fox, as cunning as he is, ain’t even got close enough to nibble me toes. It drives him barmy. We always ’ave a laugh over that, Rusty and me. He’s a good fella, he is. That reminds me, I must tell the missus that Rusty is popping in later with his cubs. She gets all stressy if I don’t tell ’er first, she likes to put on her best frock for visitors.’

  Bunny O’Sullivan noticed that Jack was looking a little confused, so he thought it best to stop rambling. ‘Anyways, I was thinking somebody as wise as you wouldn’t want to eat me now.’ He shot a quick look at Jack to check that he was in agreement. ‘I figured you’d much prefer to come back tomorrow when I’d finished eatin’ this lovely cabbage. Then, as I’m sure your smart brain has always worked out, I’d be a little bit plumper, and a little bit tastier.’

  Jack leaned very close again and nudged him with his beak. ‘How do you know I’m not hungry now?’ he squawked.

  ‘Welllll,’ Bunny O’Sullivan said slowly, ‘to be fair, I don’t, but I figured a hawk with your smarts would be willing to wait.’

  Jack shuffled a little closer, sniffing the rabbit in a rather intimidating manner. ‘I do like vegetables with my meat. Especially cabbages.’

  ‘I’ll eat some carrots later if you like,’ Bunny O’Sullivan grinned. ‘Wait til the morning, and I’ll be the best part of your five-a-day.’

  The hawk laughed. ‘You’re rather funny … for a rabbit.’

  ‘You’re rather likable … for a hawk.’

  Bunny O’Sullivan looked over towards his warren. ‘Oy, you lot,’ he yelled out, making Jack flinch in surprise, ‘stop peeking whilst I’m talking to Mr Stimpson. I’ve t
old you already, get ready for bed. And don’t forget to brush your teeth, either!’

  He turned to Jack and shook his head. ‘Kids, eh? They never do as they’re told.’

  ‘Mine are the same,’ Jack mumbled as he tugged something out of the corner of his beak with a sharp talon. ‘Doesn’t matter how many times I tell them, I’ve always got to tell them again.’

  ‘Ah, I bet they’re cuties though.’

  ‘All three of them are indeed handsome chicks. They hatched only last month. Good job too. Flo was getting fidgety legs so I had to help out.’ He looked over his shoulder at his tail. ‘Eggs are very uncomfortable to sit on, you know.’

  Bunny O’Sullivan thumped the ground with his foot and laughed loudly. ‘My missus is the same. She goes on non-stop about her fidgety legs.’

  They both stared across at the kits, none of them had moved. ‘Well, I should be getting back, Mr Stimpson. Rusty will be over soon, and that lot looks like they need a little nudging. Got to make sure there’s time for the bedtime stories, you know how it is.’

  ‘Best part of the day, I’d say. My boys love their bedtime stories. They could listen to “Goldifeathers and the three Eagles” all night long.’

  ‘It certainly is,’ Bunny O’Sullivan agreed, taking a hop towards his burrow. ‘It’s been lovely chatting to you. Same time tomorrow?’

  Jack’s beak dropped in disbelief. ‘You mean you’re arranging what time you want to be eaten tomorrow? Are you mad?’

  Bunny O’Sullivan smiled. ‘Nah, you won’t eat me now, we’re friends. You wouldn’t eat a friend, would you, Mr Stimpson? Same time tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes, same time tomorrow,’ Jack grinned. ‘And by the way, call me Jack.’

  ‘Lookin’ forward to it, Jack,’ Bunny O’Sullivan called back over his shoulder, ‘give Flo my regards.’

  ‘Will do.’ Jack stretched his wings and took to the air. As he passed overhead, he called out, ‘Enjoy those stories, my friend. See you tomorrow.’

  ###

  From the author:

  Thank you for reading this story, I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a review or contact me, as I’d love to hear your feedback.

  This was a new direction for me. I’ve been meaning to write something lighter for a while since my short stories tend to be oppressively dark. Luckily, my daughter’s teacher, Mr Hogg, came to the rescue. Apparently he told the class to get their parents to spend an hour on a story. I’m not entirely sure why, or whether this was even the case; I’m suspecting a little exaggeration or a playful trick on my daughter’s part. Either way, I thought I’d give it a try.

  The first attempt turned a little dark and confusing for eight year olds; my daughter liked it, but she had no idea what was going on! I decided instead to submit it to the local writing competition, the Bristol Short Story Prize. Keep an eye on my blog to see how it got on!

  Bunny O’Sullivan is the second attempt. It took slightly more than an hour and was given a little polish by my friends, but hopefully, Mr Hogg and my Stan will be satisfied!

  Email: mailto:[email protected]

  Blog: https://colinmarks.com