I used to have no problem with rabbits. Truly, other than being an occasional wildlife sighting during a family walk, I never used to spare them a single thought. Why would I? They’re quiet neighbors, their poops are small and inoffensive in smell, and they’re cute. Who doesn’t like watching a fuzzy little butt going lippity lippity through their yard?
Me, apparently, because I now have a legitimate problem with my lapin neighbors.
It all started two weeks ago, when I talked Wes into buying me some pretty flowers for the yard. He was hesitant to do so, citing his No Spending Money Improving Our Rental House policy. I convinced him by saying it was like he was buying an outdoor long lasting bouquet of flowers for his wife. He was happy to do it when I put it that way and voila! Pretty flowers in my front yard! We loves them, precious!
I was hustling my kids into the car the morning after the flowers were planted when my son called out from the front yard, “Mama! Something happened to your flowers!”
Sure enough, some creature had eaten the flowers right off their stalks, leaving nothing but green stalks and exposed roots where they’d ripped my pretty, pretty flowers clear out of the ground. I felt violated. These were like a present to me from my son and husband! How could something destroy them in less than twenty-four hours?!
The lack of hooved tracks led me to believe the culprit was small and lippity rather than tall and sprightly, and hence my dislike for bunnies began. Now when I see them around the neighborhood, I want to pull over and chastise them soundly for their inexcusable snacking.
Fast forward to Friday, when I was driving my kids to school and noticed a cluster of crows, heads down, pecking intently at something in the middle of the street. My approach frightened them off, and when we rolled closer I saw the object of their interest had started its life off as a flower-munching rabbit. Except now, it was providing a tasty snack to someone else.
By the time we got back, someone had mercifully removed the corpse from our street and the only sign of what had happened that morning was a few drifting puffs of what I can only assume used to be fluffy white tail. It made me wonder: Did any part of the rabbit’s animus linger? Is it wandering around in constant bewilderment in search of ghostly flowers to rip out of the ground?
Who knows, maybe my whole neighborhood is host to droves of phantom bunnies, all restlessly searching for absolution amid the brightly-colored pansies.
Ignore me, I’m letting my mind run amok. The salient point of this post is that I did have a problem with bunnies, and now I’m sort of okay with them again. It’s hard out there for tiny animals with no self-defense skills. I suppose I could stand to be a little more supportive…
…after I spread some slug repellent granules around my flowers. I can be supportive of them when I’m sure they won’t be eating my flowers again.