The above photo was taken on about August 3, 1983, in front of my dad's new home, fifty miles west of Newcastle, WY (a long, long, loooonnnnggggg way from town), and five very rough, gravely miles north of the Little Thunder Cafe and Gas Station (a veritable oasis in the "desert"). This photo is probably only mildly interesting in its own right, but I have posted it here because it provides you with a view of the environment in which the story takes place. [As for that cone-shaped hill, it certainly looks man made, and it may well be -- possibly abandoned after some long-forgotten construction project; however, I saw several naturally odd-shaped buttes and hills in that desolate landscape, so one cannot jump to conclusions. I even climbed to the top of this hill, and it "felt" natural. So who knows?]
Important Note Regrettably, all of the pictures in the following series (not counting the next picture) were double exposed**. Luckily, the rabbit pictures were taken in the bright outdoors, so they "won out" over the darker, indoor pictures that I had previously taken on this roll. Coincidentally and ironically (and regrettably), some of the original "lost" pictures had been taken four months earlier during my only other visit to this same location. Also lost were the only photographs I ever took at the local auto-supply dealership in which I had worked as a delivery driver (etc.) from March 1980 to April 1983. In fact, some of the store's products (and my old best friend/coworker) are actually partially visible in a couple of the pictures.
Important Note Regrettably, all of the pictures in the following series (not counting the next picture) were double exposed**. Luckily, the rabbit pictures were taken in the bright outdoors, so they "won out" over the darker, indoor pictures that I had previously taken on this roll. Coincidentally and ironically (and regrettably), some of the original "lost" pictures had been taken four months earlier during my only other visit to this same location. Also lost were the only photographs I ever took at the local auto-supply dealership in which I had worked as a delivery driver (etc.) from March 1980 to April 1983. In fact, some of the store's products (and my old best friend/coworker) are actually partially visible in a couple of the pictures.
The Story Begins
August 10, 1983, "Little Thunder," WY
By this time, I had been visiting my dad for about a week. During the days, I was sometimes left alone in the desolation for several hours while he went to Newcastle. I could have gone with him (he always asked), but I was enjoying the solitude of nature too much to be around people again (I was there to take a break from people). Only my dad's border collie, Belle, remained behind to keep me company. I'm not a big fan of dogs (and was even less so in 1983), but Belle was the nicest, most well behaved and well trained dog I had ever known at that time, and I really liked her.
August 10, 1983, "Little Thunder," WY
By this time, I had been visiting my dad for about a week. During the days, I was sometimes left alone in the desolation for several hours while he went to Newcastle. I could have gone with him (he always asked), but I was enjoying the solitude of nature too much to be around people again (I was there to take a break from people). Only my dad's border collie, Belle, remained behind to keep me company. I'm not a big fan of dogs (and was even less so in 1983), but Belle was the nicest, most well behaved and well trained dog I had ever known at that time, and I really liked her.
Today, my dad went to town again. I was once again left alone in the middle of nowhere and was loving every minute of it. The temperature was about 100 degrees, as it had been almost every day since I had arrived. Luckily, there were two man-made dams about 50 feet behind the house. I had already gone swimming once or twice in the nearest dam with Belle, and I decided it was time to go again. In those days, I was a fish in water. I absolutely loved swimming.
As I rounded the corner of the ramshackle company trailer house I grabbed a decent "fetch stick" for Belle. She loved retrieving sticks from the middle of the dam. At that moment, it suddenly occurred to me that I might have even more fun if I had some sort of makeshift raft. I figured a wooden pallet might do the trick, if I could find one. Of course, a pallet wouldn't float above the water with me on it, but it would still have enough buoyancy to keep me somewhat afloat while also keeping me half submerged in the cool water. In other words, it would be a perfect raft on a roasting-hot day.
About fifty or sixty feet northeast of the house was a collection of old oil-field junk. Most of it was located on the north side of two or three huge, empty oil-storage tanks (about 20 or 30 feet tall). If there was a pallet to be found, that's where it would be. I walked around the first oil tank to start looking. Belle was not far behind. In the shade of the tanks and scattered around between the piles of junk were about thirty or forty wild rabbits. They scattered like lightening in every direction when they saw me.
All, except one...
As I rounded the corner of the ramshackle company trailer house I grabbed a decent "fetch stick" for Belle. She loved retrieving sticks from the middle of the dam. At that moment, it suddenly occurred to me that I might have even more fun if I had some sort of makeshift raft. I figured a wooden pallet might do the trick, if I could find one. Of course, a pallet wouldn't float above the water with me on it, but it would still have enough buoyancy to keep me somewhat afloat while also keeping me half submerged in the cool water. In other words, it would be a perfect raft on a roasting-hot day.
About fifty or sixty feet northeast of the house was a collection of old oil-field junk. Most of it was located on the north side of two or three huge, empty oil-storage tanks (about 20 or 30 feet tall). If there was a pallet to be found, that's where it would be. I walked around the first oil tank to start looking. Belle was not far behind. In the shade of the tanks and scattered around between the piles of junk were about thirty or forty wild rabbits. They scattered like lightening in every direction when they saw me.
All, except one...
It ran only a few feet and then stopped. I froze in my tracks to avoid scaring it away. I also turned around and quietly ordered Belle back to the house. Without hesitation, she obeyed (how many dogs would do that when there are rabbits to be chased?).
It was obviously a young rabbit. It didn't seem to have much of a problem with my presence. I just stood there watching it, surprised that it had not disappeared like the rest. Within seconds, I began talking to it very softly to let it know I wasn't a threat. Every once in a while, it would quickly hop a short distance further away, but, luckily, it never went further than two or three feet. After letting it get settled in each new spot, I would ever so slowly move closer to it again. At first I remained about eight or ten feet away from it, continuing to talk softly to it. I kept expecting it to disappear for good at any moment, and my fantasy of taming it would come to an end. Then I would continue with my original plan to find a pallet and go swimming.
But soon an hour passed, and we were both still there. Sometime during that hour, I had gotten tired of standing, so I sat on the ground and continued to talk to it. Every time it moved, I would wait a few seconds and then very slowly scoot along the ground with it. At times, it almost seemed to be enjoying my company, or, at the very least, it wasn't bothered. In fact, as you can see in the next picture, I was starting to get really close to it. [And, no, I did not use a telephoto lens in this series.]
I don't remember the timing of the events very well anymore (I used to have them memorized), but, within about ninety minutes, I was actually sitting within two or three feet of the rabbit (as you can see). Every so often, for no apparent reason, its instincts would kick in again, and it would hurriedly hop two or three feet further away from me (obviously, it was a very mild panic), and I would slowly catch up to it again. Luckily, it always remained out in the open, even though there were a lot of great hiding places under all the surrounding junk.
After about three hours of sitting there and talking to the rabbit, I knew I needed to capture this event on film. I had been wanting to get my camera for a while, but I kept putting it off, afraid that my getting up would scare the rabbit away. I also worried that it might disappear while I was gone, even though I knew it would take me no more than a minute or three to get my camera and come back. Or maybe it would finally panic as nature intended when I came around the oil storage tank a second time.
Finally, I decided I had to take the risk because I knew no one would believe me if I told them about this rabbit. I ever so carefully got up and walked at a snail's pace until I was finally out of the rabbit's line of sight. Then I ran like an Olympic sprinter to the trailer to get my camera. This may be when I very hurriedly put in the roll of film that already had about eight or ten pictures on it.
As you can see, the rabbit was still there when I returned with the camera.
As you can see, the rabbit was still there when I returned with the camera.
I slowly sat down again and resumed my one-sided conversation with it.
I took this series of pictures while continually working my way closer to it, until...
...I was actually able to pet it.
I took this series of pictures while continually working my way closer to it, until...
...I was actually able to pet it.
The rabbit only allowed me to pet it for a few seconds at a time before it would hop two or three feet away again. But at least it didn't run completely away; and I was always able to approach it again (while remaining seated) and pet it again for a few seconds.
Day Two
August 11, 1983, "Little Thunder," WY
This morning, I returned to the same spot, and, to my amazement, my rabbit was still there (waiting for me?). No other rabbits were in sight.
It still only let me pet it for a few seconds at a time, but it was obvious that it was enjoying itself, no matter what its instincts may have been telling it. For example, look at its back leg in this next picture. Whenever I scratched it between its ears, its back leg would reflexively kick out to the side in obvious enjoyment.
Day Two
August 11, 1983, "Little Thunder," WY
This morning, I returned to the same spot, and, to my amazement, my rabbit was still there (waiting for me?). No other rabbits were in sight.
It still only let me pet it for a few seconds at a time, but it was obvious that it was enjoying itself, no matter what its instincts may have been telling it. For example, look at its back leg in this next picture. Whenever I scratched it between its ears, its back leg would reflexively kick out to the side in obvious enjoyment.
On this second day, I also decided that I wanted to be in a picture with the rabbit, so I had a friend of my dad take this next one of both of us. I don't remembr why my dad didn't take it himself (maybe he was working or taking a nap when the idea occurred to me, and I didn't want to wait). You'll also notice the carrot I had given to it. I don't remember for sure if it ever tasted it, but it definitely wasn't interested in it (maybe it smelled too "store bought").
You can see that the rabbit is very small compared to me. Its youthfulness and inexperience probably helped to keep it from being too afraid of me; however, when there was such a large herd of rabbits, at least one or three others were probably just as young as this one, yet they all ran.
[Note: I had been feeling very poorly for about two weeks, until a few days before this picture was taken, and I still wasn't entirely over it. To the trained eye (mine), I can see by my haggard face that I still wasn't back to 100 percent. But I had decided that I was going to have a good time, no matter what, and so I did.]
You can see that the rabbit is very small compared to me. Its youthfulness and inexperience probably helped to keep it from being too afraid of me; however, when there was such a large herd of rabbits, at least one or three others were probably just as young as this one, yet they all ran.
[Note: I had been feeling very poorly for about two weeks, until a few days before this picture was taken, and I still wasn't entirely over it. To the trained eye (mine), I can see by my haggard face that I still wasn't back to 100 percent. But I had decided that I was going to have a good time, no matter what, and so I did.]
Conclusion
Little Thunder, WY, August 11, 1983
Sunset on a very desolate, yet beautiful landscape. Behind me and to my right (just out of the picture) are the tanks where my rabbit was waiting for me for three days in a row. The day after I took this picture, I returned to my home in Nebraska and never saw the rabbit again.
Little Thunder, WY, August 11, 1983
Sunset on a very desolate, yet beautiful landscape. Behind me and to my right (just out of the picture) are the tanks where my rabbit was waiting for me for three days in a row. The day after I took this picture, I returned to my home in Nebraska and never saw the rabbit again.
Footnote
**Maybe you are wondering how a person can double expose a roll of 35mm film. I shall always regret this practice now (chronology fanatic that I am), but, in those days, I occasionally removed a half-used roll of film from my camera (in a very dark closet, of course) and replaced it temporarily with a new roll. At first, there was a practical reason for doing this: I was in photography class at college and occasionally needed to shoot an assignment roll of film. In this case, I did it (I now suddenly think I remember) because an old classmate in college had asked me to take pictures of her boyfriend on the basketball team (there are three pictures of that game on this roll). So I took out this roll of film and put her roll in (however, the sequence of rolls and negatives makes this theory seem wrong, though). I then forgot about this roll of film and used one or two new rolls instead over the next few months. When I finally remembered this roll of film, I had completely forgotten that it already contained the aforementioned pictures (about eight or ten in all). Instead, I decided that it contained only two or three pictures, so I forwarded the film to where I thought the unused portion began (making sure to give myself a little leeway to avoid overlap), and then I took the "Wild Rabbit" pictures.
**Maybe you are wondering how a person can double expose a roll of 35mm film. I shall always regret this practice now (chronology fanatic that I am), but, in those days, I occasionally removed a half-used roll of film from my camera (in a very dark closet, of course) and replaced it temporarily with a new roll. At first, there was a practical reason for doing this: I was in photography class at college and occasionally needed to shoot an assignment roll of film. In this case, I did it (I now suddenly think I remember) because an old classmate in college had asked me to take pictures of her boyfriend on the basketball team (there are three pictures of that game on this roll). So I took out this roll of film and put her roll in (however, the sequence of rolls and negatives makes this theory seem wrong, though). I then forgot about this roll of film and used one or two new rolls instead over the next few months. When I finally remembered this roll of film, I had completely forgotten that it already contained the aforementioned pictures (about eight or ten in all). Instead, I decided that it contained only two or three pictures, so I forwarded the film to where I thought the unused portion began (making sure to give myself a little leeway to avoid overlap), and then I took the "Wild Rabbit" pictures.
