Number eight fled in panic ahead of me, bounding up and down and then disappearing into a clump of bushes on the side of the trail. Number nine was heard only, rustling in some dried weeds just to my right. Rounding a corner of the trail, I almost wet my running shorts when number ten shot underfoot.
Counting the cute, fluffy namesakes of BunnyRabbit is one of my past times when running. I honestly have no idea how this many manage to survive when the landscape is overrun with coyotes and Great Horned Owls, but I routinely tally double digits when I run in the flood control basin near my house. My all-time record is in the low twenties; this morning was mediocre, with only eleven individuals.
Apart from quadrupeds, it was an average run. I noted four new SWSA birds, all gimmes: Red-shouldered Hawk, House Wren, Wilson's Warbler, and Great-tailed Grackle. My calves are sore (again); I think it's time to start wearing my fivefingers to class to get used to them.