Tesha has been hoping for wildlife. We drove into the Little Belts, and on the first long stretch through ranch land there was a perfectly fresh road kill, a white jack or prairie hare, Lepus Townsendii. Of course even we call it a rabbit, but it is not. It has longer ears, taller legs, is faster and not given to burrows, nesting above ground and born fully furred with eyes open. The hare lay perfectly in tact on its side, front legs primly crossed and eyes open in death as well as birth. Graveside comfort came to mind, “he looked to be at rest, so peaceful,” except for the barely visible barred teeth. Is it just the shape of the Hare’s mouth that shows the teeth, or might it be the beginning of a grimace of pain arrested in death.