I saw a black crow dining, under blue skies

First, apologies to Joni Mitchell. Second, bunny lovers will want to skip this post.

(But, after all:

Bunnies aren't just cute like everybody supposes,
They got them hoppy legs and twitchy little noses.

Right?)

Yes. There was a black crow feasting on some initially unidentified roadkill, a flattened blur of grey-brown fur and (sorry) pinkish guts. I slowed down to check (because I always have to check). Squirrel or rabbit?--Cottontail. And Bookish Gardener said: YESSSS.

For more a more literary (and cathartic) exposition of how I really feel about these varmints, here's Louise Beebe Wilder:

In a single night a foraging bunny will eat your Crocus patches clean, ignoring utterly the fresh lettuce leaves that have been left temptingly about. [....] Cats are a help, but here, unhappily, we have been obliged to resort to a rifle after losing our Crocuses for several seasons in succession. [....] It is easy to see to what a rabid state of mind the gentlest and most humane of persons may be brought by the destruction of his beloved Crocuses. The gun in a sure hand is the most unfailing weapon.

Adventures with Hardy Bulbs. Louise Beebe Wilder. Colliers Books (1990 edition). ISBN 0-02-040840-4.