Jackrabbits Know Things

Jackrabbits Know Things

Most people don’t know that jackrabbits can run up to 45 mph.

They look like they shouldn’t be able to do that. They look like a creature designed by committee. Too much ear, not enough confidence. And yet, if you blink on a West Texas back road, that blur you missed was probably a jackrabbit casually breaking traffic laws.

Jackrabbits survive out here by being fast, alert, and deeply unimpressed by humans or their vehicles.

Which feels relevant.

Because a lot of people also don’t know what there is to do in West Texas.

They’ll say things like, “Is there anything out there?” or “What do people even do all day?” or my personal favorite, “Isn’t it just empty?”

Meanwhile, the jackrabbit is standing there thinking, “I live in a place where the sky changes every ten minutes, the stars show off nightly, and no one is in a hurry unless they’re late for dinner.”

West Texas isn’t empty. It’s just not yelling at you.

There’s art tucked behind screen doors, music in unlikely places, festivals you only hear about if someone tells you in person, food you do not expect to find here but absolutely should, and events that don’t advertise themselves because they assume you’re paying attention.

Kind of like the jackrabbit.

This place rewards curiosity. It punishes assumptions. It does not chase you. You have to notice it.

If you’ve ever felt like you were missing something, like everyone else got a memo you didn’t, congratulations. You’re not alone, buddy.

Neither is the jackrabbit.

He’s just faster.

And if you happen to want a place where all the local stuff actually is, without the shouting, without the pop ups, without the corporate voice telling you how quirky it is, well, there’s a hub for that.

But mostly this post is just here to say, West Texas knows things. The jackrabbits included.