Feeding the Beasts

After too many years of destruction and devastation I have finally decided it just might be a simple case of keeping the beasts fed. Maybe if they are fed somewhere else, they won’t come looking for it over here or maybe my garden is their Field of Gastronomic Dreams. If we grow it they will come.

Case in point: those wascally wabbits. This year, Momma “C” (Cottontail) decided to transfer her youngens from a location of almost complete exposure to a more concealed location where there just so happens to be an abundant assortment of tasty, nourishing treats. There are berries galore, flowers and grasses and clover of every different variety, and leafy greens that are downright delectable – well, to a rabbit anyway – all because (much to the dismay of my parents and others) we are not avid lawn mowers.

Yes, it can be perceived as being a touch on the sloppy side. Our backyard may look like a scene from Wild Kingdom but we do enjoy the diversity of native plant life (weeds to some are wildflowers and herbs to us) that grows when allowed to and we do enjoy the wildlife it attracts -- as long as they respect the boundaries.

The young rabbits seem satisfied (for the time being) not having to venture out into the open too frequently; what’s more, they are surrounded by choice cuisine they seem to enjoy.

The question is: how long will this bliss state last? My little kitchen garden is growing fairly well with little or no major damage thus far. Everything is small, but intact, for the most part.

But what if the litter of young cottontails I’ve been avidly protecting from my natural born mutant killer cat turn on me and decide to invade? I LOVE the baby bunnies. I want to hold them and pet them and name them George, but summer is normally a time of consistent cottontail carnage wrought at the fangs and polydactyled (six-toed) claws of my cat. This year, I decided to keep her indoors rather than have to subject myself, yet again, to those terrible, haunting, pathetic bunny screams in the night.

So, what if the rabbits become curiouser and curiouser and start venturing out of their hole beneath the thicket as they grow and expand the perimeters of their awareness and hopping abilities?

Will I be ready for a surprise attack? Given my sloth-like nature, I seriously doubt it. The law of least effort is one that pretty much rules my life. I could start fencing in the whole garden, of course, but I won’t. At least, not this lifetime, er, I mean year. So, what’s this poor girl to do?

What if I just let the grass and “weeds” keep growing? Lord have mercy, she didn’t really mean that, did she? Yeah, I did. Unmowed grass to the slightly squewed observer looks like natural fencing. The grass is long, higher than they can jump right now, and the stalks are thick and tough, since they’ve been growing for a while. (Sorry, Mom.)

The grass also conceals the veggies growing there. If they do somehow manage to envision what dreamy pleasures might lie before them, it will still take a good deal of time and effort on their parts to chew their way through. So, quite frankly, if they do get in, they kinda deserve at least some of the spoils, right? But, for the love of god, just, please, not the broccoli, NOT THE BROCCOLI! (I hope.)

Just how long will this last ditch non-effort keep the beasts at bay? We shall see, dear friends, we shall see. I’ve counted at least five rabbits of various sizes and ages total, so far, positioned in strategic locations around me, but I sense there may be a whole faction I don’t see. Not yet. But, the sun is beginning to set, and I hear cottontails love the smell of parsley in the evening.