Over the last few months our neighborhood has been inundated with bunnies. One cannot go outside without seeing them hunkering down in an attempt to seem invisible or hopping away as fast as their little legs will carry them.
At first I was very excited when I found out that I had a nest of baby bunnies under our back shed but then, slowly but surely, I became aware of the ramifications of having the cute little fluff balls as squatters upon our recently purchased property.
At first, I would look out the window with hopes of seeing one of the tiny critters basking in the sun beneath a hedge. The sight of them scurrying to safety as Oliver ran into the yard always brought a smile to my face. That was in the beginning, when they were small, too young to notice the delicacies I had planted within my-now their- yard.
As the fresh bulbs began to peek through the earth the bunnies took on a more sinister look. It was like they knew I had planted them, just for them. They now lay in wait not merely basking in the morning sun, no, now they lay in wait for the bulb to produce the delicate and seemly tasty flower then pounce on it, popping it into their greedy mouths, much like a child diving into a fresh package of M&M’s.
A friend on Facebook shared her knowledge with me, the knowledge that bunnies do not like marigolds, so I planted some. Maybe the bunnies in her region don’t like marigolds but my bunnies seem to love them, prefer them even. Every morning a bunny can be found sitting in the very front of my flower bed plucking the heads off of my bright orange marigolds, eating them one by one. Every morning I find myself talking out loud saying “Yea Jackie, those rabbits sure hate those marigolds!” Then I call for Oliver and send him out to rid the yard of the long eared, limber legged creatures of destruction.
Now, instead of cheering on the bunnies as they run to the safety of the shed, I find myself rooting for Oliver, hoping this time he will put an end to their flower munching ways once and for all. It is mean, I know, but I can’t help it, I have grown to really dislike my new tenants. It would be different if they were offering something in return, a token, for the pleasure of their daily meals but no, they just take, take, take and the only thing they leave in return is a decapitated plant and a trail of bunny droppings. I wish I could say that a trail of bunny droppings was a good thing. That their droppings were somehow helping by fertilizing my yard, but alas that is not the case because, as it turns out Oliver has a passion for rabbit droppings. Every morning I watch as he walks leisurely through the yard, nose to the ground, thoroughly enjoying each tasty morsel. Even when I do not actually see him having his morning snack I know when he has indulged as there is nothing worse than doggy breath laced with rabbit poo. I think maybe he has made a deal with the pesky critters, letting them know that he will put on a good show, make me think he is really after them, if in return they will continue to spread their droppings throughout the yard.
I am grateful yet baffled as to why the bunnies have thus far chosen to refrain from venturing into my garden. It is full of bunny food, crisp lettuce and tangy tomatoes yet, other than a few leafs of my eggplant plant I do not see where anything has been touched. Could it be that they have left it intact out of preference to the tasty delicacies of the flowerbed or is there something more sinister at play? Are they merely waiting-biding their time- for the right moment, just before harvest, to dive in and enjoy the fruits of my labor. I can’t help but wonder if this is simply a race between the tortoise and the hare. If it is, I wonder if should be worried that my bathroom is filled with turtles…