It was one of those special, other worldly, northern winter nights when nothing can surprise you and you just know that anything might happen.

A full moon made the snow shrouded woodland glow in a mysterious, almost magical iridescence.

It was one of those nights when all of nature held its breath, waiting, just waiting. One of those winter nights that foretells a change in the weather, when you know that in one night or three a cold spell will cause temperatures to plummet to an air snapping, ear freezing low when one would best stay inside for fear of frost bite. But, that night was there and so was I.

The air was almost warm, the velvet surface of the snow soft and my boots made no sound as I shadowed through the glistening woodland.

I looked up and there, silhouetted against the full moon was a large raccoon sitting in the fork of an old cottonwood tree.

For the moment all was at peace as though the raccoon was as mesmerized, or perhaps I should say, as moon struck, as I was.

This was a special place I visited often as a boy.

Suddenly, on the moon swept snow I saw movement and then there was another at the edge of the tiny forest glade.

A rabbit, a Molly cottontail was there, sitting up on her hindquarters as she silently surveyed the small clearing in front of her.

A movement indicated another rabbit and then yet another.

Quite suddenly one of the rabbits dashed across the clearing and stopped on the far side.

Another rabbit ventured out into the clearing and stomped its hind feet rapidly on the surface of the snow. There was a barely audible sound, a muffled, ‘thump, thump’.

Soon the moon bright glade was full of rabbits, perhaps as many as a dozen, maybe more, all racing into the clearing, stomping that strange but wonderful dance, dashing here and there and out again in a whirlwind of small furry bodies.

At times two rabbits would approach each other and briefly touch noses, in greeting it seemed to me, then they would be off again about their wild, capricious dance.

The snow yielded and was soon packed down as those many little fairy, furry feet thumped and then thump, thumped again, until magically; all of the rabbits were dancing their mysterious dance. Oh, how I wanted to join them, to dance with them.

Can what I saw those many years ago be anything less than that, a wild dance?

The rabbits danced with boundless enthusiasm that night. What might have possessed them? I cannot explain it. Perhaps this is what it means to be “moon struck.” All I know is that Twice in my life I have seen the rabbits dance.

I hope that you have been given just a glimpse of what I witnessed on that long ago, very special night

I would like to see it once more, wouldn’t you?

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