Sadie’s Dry Resting Place

A cool raindrop plopped right onto Sadie’s nose as she carried a mouthful of grass.

“Brr!” she said, and shook her whiskers. The rainstorm had passed, but the woodland clearing was still wet. Drops hung from fern tips, and the grass bent under little beads of water. Sadie had hoped to make a dry, comfortable resting place before evening. She carried grass to the edge of her burrow, where the ground sloped down beneath the leafy roof.

Her burrow was a snug tunnel in the earth, with a little resting hollow just inside the entrance. Sadie liked it best when she had a bed of grass there. Rabbits use grasses and other plant materials to make nests, and Sadie knew just how to arrange them: long pieces underneath, shorter pieces tucked around the sides.

She set down her mouthful and looked for a dry spot nearby. A broad hazel leaf stretched over a patch of grass. “This will do,” she said. She gathered a few stalks and carried them under the leaf. But plip! A raindrop fell from its tip and landed right in the middle of her pile.

Sadie moved the grass to the other side. Plip, plip! Two more drops slipped from the leaf and dotted the ground. She picked up the damp stalks and shook them, but they still felt cool and heavy. So she laid them beside the burrow entrance, where the earth looked smooth and dry.

For a moment, the spot seemed perfect. Then a drop fell from a low branch above the doorway. It tapped the ground, then another drop followed. Sadie watched a tiny dark spot spread through the grass.

“Oh, dear,” she murmured. The clearing was full of places that looked dry until a drop came down. She glanced toward the trees. A gray cloud still rested over the woods, and the air smelled fresh and rainy. Sadie wanted to find a dry place soon, before another shower began. She gathered her grass again and set off to look more carefully.

Sadie searched beneath a thick patch of blackberry leaves, stepping around puddles as she went. The leaves made a roof, but water ran along their edges and dripped in a steady line. She tried beside a mossy stone. The stone was dry on top, yet the grass tucked against it was cold and wet.

Sadie paused to listen. Plip from the hazel. Plop from the blackberry leaves. Tap from the branch above the burrow. The drops sounded like a tiny drum band, each player choosing a different beat.

“If I can hear the drops,” she said, “I can find where they’re landing.” She followed the sounds with her nose pointed up. Near the far side of the clearing lay a fallen log, broad and brown, with one end resting on a low hump of earth. Its branches had caught the rain, but beneath the middle of the log was a dark, sheltered space.

Sadie crouched and peered underneath. The earth there was dry. So was the grass, curled in a little patch where the log had kept the rain away. She touched it with one paw. It felt crisp and warm from the day’s air. Her ears tipped forward. “This is it!”

She gathered armfuls of the dry grass, carrying each bundle carefully back to her burrow. The first bundle brushed her cheek. The next was so wide that it tickled both ears. Sadie giggled and held it tighter.

As she made another trip, a light patter began in the trees. Rain was coming back. Sadie hurried, but she did not drop the grass. She kept her paws steady and followed the familiar path around the puddles. One last bundle rested beneath the log. She tucked it under her chin and carried it home.

At the burrow entrance, Sadie set the dry grass inside the resting hollow. The shower pattered over the clearing, but the grass in her paws stayed dry. She spread the longest pieces along the bottom, then curled shorter pieces around the edges. She pressed the center with both front paws. It made a neat little dip, just the right size for a rabbit to curl into.

Sadie gave the resting hollow one last look. The dry grass made a cozy nest, with a raised rim around the sides and a smooth place in the middle. She nudged one stray stalk into place with her nose, then stepped back. Nothing dripped inside the burrow. Outside, the rain tapped on the leaves and the earth above her.

Sadie settled into the hollow. The grass rustled beneath her paws, then grew still as she turned around once, and once more. She tucked her feet beneath her body and rested her chin on the little rim. It fit just right.

At the entrance, a few rain drops ran down the burrow’s leafy edge and fell into the clearing. Sadie watched them from her dry bed. She could see a small puddle gather near a root, where the water made faint rings. The rings widened, touched one another, and vanished.

The rain sounded different from inside the burrow. It was no longer a tap on her nose or a plop on her grass. It was a quiet patter overhead, like many tiny paws crossing the roof. Sadie listened as the drops came and went across the leaves.

She thought of the sheltered place beneath the fallen log and how the dry grass had waited there. Tomorrow, the clearing would be full of fresh smells and wet leaves. But for now, her work was done. Her bed was dry, and her burrow held the familiar earthy scent of home.

Sadie curled her ears beside her cheeks and let her eyes grow heavy. Above her, the rain kept pattering, then softened as the shower moved across the woods. She rested snugly beneath the earth, listening until the last scattered drops grew quiet.