Living in the country can sometimes entail solving a murder mystery.

The scene of the crime was our cattle yard and the feeder that affords our Jersey steers unlimited access to a grain mix. The grain feeder has troughs on the north and south sides. The north trough tends to fill with snow whenever a blizzard sweeps down from the north.

After enduring yet another in an endless series of March snowstorms, I trudged out to the cattle feeder to clear the snow from the north trough. Much to my astonishment, I espied the telltale cottony tail of a rabbit protruding from the snow.

“Aww, poor bunny!” I thought. “He tried to find shelter from the storm in the trough but froze anyway.”

Upon removing the corpse, I was stunned to discover that I was holding only half a rabbit. Its entire front end was missing!

This development radically altered my theory of what had transpired. It’s doubtful that the cottontail got there by itself, especially since it was missing its front half. This could only mean that the rabbit had been murdered elsewhere and its corpse buried in the snow-filled trough in a panicked effort to conceal the crime.

Glancing around for likely suspects, my gaze fell upon our steers, who had moseyed over to the crime scene to see what was going on. The steers looked at me with their big brown eyes. One of them yawned; another chewed his cud nonchalantly. Maybe too nonchalantly.

Summoning my inner Sherlock Holmes, I exclaimed, “Aha! Don’t try to appear so innocent! It’s clear that one of you is the culprit!”

But how could that be? Cattle are not known for their carnivorous proclivities. The steers lacked the motivation factor of the guilt equation. It also seemed unlikely that any of our lumbering bovines could ever run fast enough to catch a cottontail.

It was clear that I had to cast a wider net. It occurred to me that an unknown number of raptors live in our area. Hawks and owls are carnivores, which means that they have both the means and the motivation for committing this murder. But raptors commonly consume their entire prey without any thought of saving some of it for the future. You never see eagles flying around with doggie bags. Scratch raptors off the list of suspects.

Bella, our dog, skulked about near me. I could tell that she was wondering what I was holding in my hand and if she could have it. She always does this, so I didn’t view it as suspicious. On the other hand, we have witnessed her passion for stashing food. We will be dealing with a bonanza of forgotten leather chewies when the snow finally melts.

But I thought about Bella’s reaction whenever we encounter a rabbit during one of our walks. Bella will chase the bunny, but I can see that her heart isn’t in it. From her point of view, there isn’t much point in working so hard for a meal when she has access to an unlimited supply of dog food. Plus, there are all those stashed chew sticks.

Then something percolated up from my memory banks. Bella and I had gone for our usual walk the day before I discovered the murder victim. A few yards from our mailbox, right in the middle of the road, there had been some droppings. Droppings that were riddled with grey hairs.

The tracks near the poo were canine, about half the size of Bella’s tracks but more rounded. They certainly didn’t belong to our dog.

I snapped a photo of the mysterious tracks and did a bit of sleuthing on the internet. My investigation revealed that the tracks had likely been made by a red fox.

This felt deeply insulting. By leaving his calling card so close to our house, the fox was essentially saying, “Here’s what I think of you and your so-called watch dog!”

It took a moment, but it finally clicked that the grey hairs in the doody matched those of a cottontail rabbit.

Aha! I had solved the case of the bumped off bunny, although not exactly with Sherlock Holmes-like speed. And it’s doubtful that the perp will ever be apprehended and frog-walked to jail under the harsh glare of network TV cameras.

The incident reminded me that we don’t control nature; we merely live alongside it. Nature was here long before we arrived and will be here long after we’re gone.

It’s our great good fortune to enjoy nature and all of its quirks. And every so often, solve one of its mysteries.

— Jerry’s book, Dear County Agent Guy, is available at http:// Workman.com and in bookstores nationwide