A rustle, a flash of white, and it was gone. First to the left of us and then again on the right. Our bikes came to a gentle stop and we paused to watch dozens more seemingly-choreographed movements.
The narrow path that stretched out before us led to a small, secluded beach. But to reach the shingle shore we first had to navigate a herd of wild rabbits; each of the creatures paused momentarily before darting into the undergrowth with a flick of white tail. Before long, the path cleared and we were back on our way.
