I think I may have mis-timed my prediction of when Little Mama would be producing her new brood. When I wandered in this afternoon (with a new larger cage for her, incidentally), she was sitting in a corner of her cage, hunkered over a sad little pile of hay and some furry fluff. She looked at me balefully, as if to say "listen, chickie, next time MARK things on your calendar, will ya?!?"
Apparently, my calculations were a wee bit off. Kits were a'coming and there was no room in the inn, let alone a nice stable with a manger. (Okay, I know. That is sacreligous, but quite appropo, honestly.) Anyway, a speedy transfer to the new larger spacious living abode, some quick packing of straw into the ol' nest box, and she was a much happier rabbit-in-labor. Little Mama immediately dove into the box and started rearranging things, huffing and mumbling to herself like a fretful housewife who has found her kitchen a mess after the menfolk attempted cooking. Straw bits were flying. Thumping and pounding arose, with little puffs of white hair emerging from the fray from time to time. It was fascinating to watch...and then she noticed me staring. Oops. The look she gave me almost set fire to my eyebrows! I hastily finished scooping feed and sloshing about water, and skedaddled.
Intimidated by a five pound pregnant rabbit. Yep, that would be me.