Bunny Jell-O

Dead things are always a little shocking, especially things newly dead. No wonder people believed — as some still do — in spirits and souls.

Looking into the open and vacant eyes of the dead rabbit, its head hanging by a strip of fur, I imagined he might still blink.

It’s past rabbit season, but in the country, pests on your property are always fair game. And while my wife has a tender heart for most creatures, big and small, when Thumper started grazing on the peas in her garden, she gave the go-ahead to our neighborhood contract killer.

The 15-year-old boy next door lay down his virtual first-person shooter and picked up a real pellet rifle. Within a day, he had bagged an actual, and rather plump, rabbit.

The triggerkid’s dad, a medical doctor and former small-town coroner, did the butchering, and so offered a professionally narrated tour of the innards.

Though he was not able to divine our futures by reading the liver, we did discover a little about Thumper’s past. That he was in fact a she. And that she had died by drowning in her own blood as a pellet pierced her chest and punctured a lung.

The doctor’s son, still dressed in camouflage and toting his weapon, turned a whiter shade of pale.

Could be worse, I thought. She could also be pregnant.

As the cutting continued, the animal began to look less real and more like meat. Her eyes lost some of their deadly stare.

I thought of what I’d make of her.

Lapin en Gelée au Romarin. Terrine of Rabbit in Rosemary Aspic would be a fine tribute, I thought, as I leafed through the advanced section of the Cordon Bleu cookbook. Besides, rabbit out of season might have worms, and this recipe called for braising the bunny for two whole hours. By the time it — or she — was through, the creature would be fully transformed, its flavor captured in a clear, shimmering aspic.

Quintessence of Rabbit. Bunny Jell-O.

I thought about the screaming hypocrisy of my being squeamish. Like most people, I have few thoughts about the once-aliveness of the cattle, pigs, chicken or even the wide-eyed fish I buy in the supermarket. But this creature was somehow special and beguiling.

The savory scent of rabbit braising slowly in rosemary, leeks, garlic, thyme, onion, carrots and bay filled my kitchen and floated upstairs to the bedroom.

The next day I shredded the meat for the mold. I considered the comic-relief value of using pans ordinarily used to make Easter Bunny cakes, but chose instead a simple square terrine.

And now that my Terrine of Rabbit in Rosemary Aspic is finished, I’m still wondering how it tastes, and who’ll be stopping by for a slice.