(In my wildest dreams, I never imagined that as a beginning line to a blog post.)
A couple of years ago, we noticed a bunny around the neighborhood. It was all very Beatrix Potter. I even considered putting up a little scarecrow in the garden, just for the storybook joy of it.
So in the beginning the bunnies were adorable and novel and furry. But the cuteness and novelty is wearing off as fast as they are eating my garden lettuce. I think we can safely say that all three (the cuteness, the novelty, and the lettuce) are COMPLETELY GONE.
But Thumper and his buddies? They're EVERYWHERE. (And they're fatter than ever thanks to their luscious diet of garden treats.)
And when I say everywhere, what I really mean is:
- in my garden
- squashed by a car in the street
- nesting in the flowers of my front yard ( no less than 5-6 at a time scatter when I go out.)
- in and out of the garage if it's left open for more than a minute or two.
- living under my back deck, in a place where the dog can not get to them, but it is driving her insane. Which in turn is driving me insane, because she barks at them at random hours of the day and night. Also she is scratching up the deck and the lawn trying to get under there.
And not to go all Mr MacGregor on Peter Rabbit and his friends, but on more than one occasion, certain alert neighbors might have heard me yelling bunny-cenities and waving a rake.
It's coming down to the wire. It's either me or them. (Or maybe the stupid dog. But what I know for sure is that there are way too many mammals in the equation.)
The Brain keeps talking about rabbit stew - mostly to bother the girls, I think. But not me. I'm considering leaving some tiny black tennis shoes and some a special bunny Kool-aid under the deck. I figure I'm just a comet away from a good strawberry harvest.