One of the most poignant confrontations we have had with a rabbit was some years ago when, each evening, over a period of over a month, a young one appeared on or garden (not really a garden, just a nearly-controlled acre of field that used to be farmland), sat in the middle of it for about twenty minutes, then disappeared
This happened so regularly that you could set you clocks by it.
Eventually the visits stopped
We reckoned that its parents had been killed on one of the narrow roads, victims of our boy-racers (a regular occurrence, particularly with badgers)

We used to be horrified at the local coursing of hares; once popular around here but now (hopefully) dying out.
I was immunised against this barbarism as an apprentice, when a workmate on the Liverpool docks took me to a coursing at nearby Waterloo and I witnesses "a string" - a tug-of-war between two dogs over a live hare until they eventually tore it in half, while the audience made bets on how long it would take
The child-like screams gave me nightmares for years after

One of the great hazards here is, when, coming home late at night, you encounter a rabbit in the middle of the road which, instead of heading for the safety of the fields, will sprint in front of you
It took us nearly an hour to make a twenty minute journey one night because we were unable to pass one of these rather dim creatures.

One amusing occurrence happened when we had a flat in somewhat middle-class Putney in West London
Going to work early one morning I witnessed a youngish woman in dressing gown and curlers, rather tentatively trying to shoo a large, obviously domesticated rabbit from her front garden by waving a handkerchief at it
Her efforts where in vain: it continued to eat its way through her flowers      for as long I could hang around to watch the performance.

"visitated"
No point in having good words if you can't confabubulate them occasionally Raed.
I think I've abandoned the idea of leaving - thanks for your kind words.
Jim