As the growing season draws to a close, I thought I’d share some gardening stories.  Specifically, that of Pearlann Haines vs. the Rabbit Nation.

In this Battle of the Bunnies she is not aided by Yogi, the Goldendoodle watchdog.  He is so named because he just sits and watches everything and everyone, including the rabbits frolicing through the yard.  To my Mom’s frustration, he does nothing to try to scare them off.

I suppose it’s good, albeit unusual, that he’s not territorial about his yard.  In fact, he’s not aggressive at all, with the exception of when he snatches your sandwich off the counter and you’re trying to take it away from him.

As a consequence, my mother’s garden suffered this year.  When I asked her for a list of what the rabbits ate, she rattled off so many names of plants, including things I’ve never heard of and therefore have no idea how to spell.  Let’s just say that the Age of Asparagus didn’t happen in 2020.

So Mom had to rely on her own cunning plans and unusual contraptions to protect the plants.  The cayenne pepper mixture spread around them didn’t deter the critters.  The solar lights didn’t make any difference.  

Then there were the shiny, multicolored pinwheels.  The rationale here was that they would catch the light when spinning in the breeze, and this would generate enough movement to scare the rabbits.  I think the bunnies must have gotten a good laugh from this one because guess who was the only one afraid of the pinwheels?  Yogi.

Next came unique yard art in the form of chicken wire cages.  I anticipated they would easily be toppled by a pair of back legs that are strong from hopping.  But they have mostly held their own thus far.

Finally, Mom developed the nightly ritual of covering the most coveted plants with garbage bags to protect them from nocturnal pillaging.  This also had the added benefit of enabling her to check on the fountain out front that inexplicably develops a chartreuse algae and so requires periodic cleaning.

(As an aside, this is the same fountain that in the winter gets covered with a tarp, on top of which little white lights are added for decoration.  One year Mom got the tarp too tight around the base, which made the fountain look like a giant mushroom.) 

After listening to all these tales, I think the obvious conclusion is that Yogi is getting paid off by the local Rabbit Cartel.  They made him an offer he couldn’t refuse; as a result, he watches them bound through the yard without interference.

This would also explain why Yogi won’t go outside by himself, despite knowing how to open the porch door.  (Although, if he’s such a smart dog you’d think he’d be able to figure out how to also close the door, which is even easier.)  I think he wants a human with him at all times because he’s afraid of the Bunny Thugs.

It’s possible that Yogi has developed some distrust as a result of these dealings.  I’ve seen a few cartoons in the newspaper that could describe him.  One shows a dog saying to the human:  “I’ll sit, but I want half the treat up front.”  Another dog says, “I don’t shake.  I get things in writing.”

(Another cartoon made me laugh out loud at the timing with our current social distancing situation.  The human is bending down with his hand out for the dog’s paw, and the dog says, “Shake?  Are you crazy?!”)

If you’re a Monty Python fan, you’ll be familiar with the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog, and the famous line of “Run away!  Run away!”  Who knew there were so many scary lagomorphs out there, throughout the globe, spanning several centuries.

So whatever difficulty you’re dealing with, at least you can take heart that it’s probably not fear of your own backyard and the wildlife contained therein.