It's tough, at first, for the little bunnies to understand just how important the job is that they're learning to do.

Millions of human children expect to wake up Easter Sunday morning and run around the house, looking for hidden eggs. Getting them delivered is a tough job, but like your teacher always said, "When you've got a tough job to do-call a rabbit!"

There is always a bunny, in every first year class, who can't resist a humorous comment when you mention the subject of eggs. It's just the way they are-so young and eager and full of energy. Everything is fun to them.

The class disruption happens while you're all huddled together under a Juniper Bush; safe from hawks gliding overhead, looking for an easy meal.

When you introduce the subject of eggs, the young one with tufts of first year fur on his back, pipes up, "What came first, the rabbit or the egg?" This breaks the class up, squealing with laughter and thumping their back feet on the ground the way little ones do.

You stifle a smile, lay your ears back against the side of your head and twitch your nose rapidly to let them think you're angry.

When the class is under control again you go on with the lesson. There is a lot to learn in the few short weeks between the end of hibernation and Easter weekend, so you try to keep the class focused.

You usually start the first class with a lesson about eggs. For some of the students, it's the first time they've seen an egg. They gather around excited and curious when the guest Elves bring them out of the big wool sacks, they carry over their shoulders.

Now, as everyone knows, Elves are finicky detail oriented types and painting eggs is the perfect job for them. Like most A type personalities, Elves have little time for frivolity, and you can usually sit back on your haunches and let the Elves handle discipline during their demonstration.

There is always one mischievous student who sticks his stubby little tail into the paint and ends up coloring someone's nose green. The Elves don't like this disrespectful behavior when it comes to their art and they let the little ones know it.

You don't know for certain where the Elves get their eggs from. They are way too big to be from robins or sparrows. Even turtle eggs aren't that big. When asked, they roll their eyes and tell you it would be against Elf rules to divulge that information.

You suspect the Elves have contacts in the shady underworld, where Trolls are known to sell things acquired under questionable circumstances. It's widely known that Trolls account for most of the things that go missing.

Whenever something disappears, like a toy or bit of jewelry you can be pretty sure Trolls are involved. It's rumored they have giant caves underground stacked to the ceiling with all the missing things in the world.

When it comes to eggs, most rabbits believe the story that Trolls sneak into chicken coups in the middle of the night, while the hens are sleeping and slip the eggs out from under them, without waking them up. It certainly sounds like something Trolls would do.

The hardest skill for little ones to master is handling the eggs. They are already hardboiled when you get them, so they don't often break wide open. Still you try to show the students how easily they crack and how delicate the paint can be. There are always a few accidents but they catch on pretty quick.

You always devote a couple of classes to the art of sneaking into people homes without being seen. The easiest way into most houses is through a broken basement window or mouse hole that can be made bigger. Once in the basement you can find the heating pipes or any little crack in the floor that gets you upstairs.

But the biggest obstacle, getting into a house, is often the family dog or cat. Fortunately dogs and cats are not as smart as rabbits and you show the class how one student distracts them by hiding a treat under a stone in the backyard, or beneath the living room couch, while the others slip in and hide the eggs.

Even with all their training though, there are always close calls every Easter. You tell them the story about the time a huge tomcat chased you around the house, until you found a big mouse hole and popped in. The mice were so startled they ran around squeaking and bumping into each other in their fright.

This makes the students stop squirming around and talking. They sit up, looking very serious for the first time. "It can be dangerous out there." You tell them. Oh you're not trying to scare them. Nobody works well when they're afraid. No you're just trying to let them know it's a serious job. "Have fun but be careful!" you tell them.

You're happy and proud of this year's crop of young bunnies. You've taught them everything you know about the job. They've worked hard and over the weeks you've noticed a new level of maturity in their young innocent faces.

When Saturday night finally comes you're there to send them on their way, smiling and wiggling your ears. It's hard watching them hop off with their eggs on their first delivery.

You remember your first time and as the last one waves back at you and disappears over the hill, you turn and go home to your burrow, knowing they'll be OK.

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