I ran over a next of baby bunnies when I was a teenager. Had headphones on and just kind of “felt” all the bones and matter disintegrate through the mower. Screamed and cried hysterically for at least a full hour, made my boyfriend leave band practice to console me. I was a wreck. Then my dad came to me holding one remaining live bunny, the top of his scalp and ears cut clean off. He was frozen in terror for the first two days I had him, but I bottle fed him and raised him and set him free in the yard. We saw him around the house for a good two years after that. Named him Toro after the mower that killed all of his siblings. It was really sad to see the mother rabbit out there inspecting the carnage that evening. Thanks for reading.