Whoops! Bunnies!

Upon my return from Ithaca, I was wild to get the garden ready for peas, lettuce and greens. It still had all the debris of winter standing blonde and pale, the old tomato vines twined in the cages, green plastic ribbon ties fluttering in the wind. I decided last summer to avoid weeding, so I mulched frequently and deeply with straw, smothering unwanted plants. This attention to mulching paid dividends this spring. I had much less weeding to do before I could rake and burn. But still some. This is Before.After I’d forked up all the clumps of grass (to tell the truth, the straw is full of seeds and begets nice fat clumps of green grass, which are nevertheless preferable to pigweed or lambs quarters), I raked up the trash and set a nice quick fire in the middle of the bed. Within a few minutes, the sticks and stalks were simply gone, reduced to a pile of white ash and a few small licks of flame.

I decided to save last fall’s mulch, since it was nicely rotted and still useful. I raked it into the center and got my sweet little Honda rototiller out of the garage. It started on the fifth pull (ahhhhh!) and I began churning soil. Thanks to the mulching, it was a breeze; the soil was loose and weedless. An old bale of straw still remained, almost rotted through, and I tilled around it, then went to move it. Hmm. Rabbit fur, right along the edge of the bale. This bears investigation. I peeled back the soft gray fur, knowing what I would find, hoping all would be well beneath. Warm, sleek baby bunny flanks, tiny pink paws, folded ears—two baby cottontails squirmed and huffed at me. Trying to startle me, they exhaled sharply and popped up like angry snakes. It worked. I was startled for a moment, then utterly charmed. Oooh, they looked so dangerous. When popping and huffing didn't make me go away, they pretended to be dead, rotten baby bunnies that no one in their right mind would want to eat. That didn't work, either. I took a couple of pictures, then pulled the fur blanket back over the babies and replaced the bale. Oh, it was warm under that fur blanket, though it was a cool day. I propped the gate open with a stick, closing the deer mesh gate, which Mrs. Cottontail, but not Chet Baker, could easily slip under. Baker helped me in the garden all day and never had a clue the bunneh nest was there. That dog don't hunt.After 21 Baker -free posts (I know nobody's counting), I thought I owed you a hit. Back to bunnehs.For good measure, I made a little hut for them, with a straw roof, because it was supposed to rain in the next couple of days.I knew the mother rabbit would be back in the evening, and I knew that she wouldn’t desert her children just because I had found them and built them a hut. Rabbits nurse their kits at night, under cover of darkness, and rarely approach the nest during the day for fear of leading predators to it. They are fearless and determined--the best of mothers. So the kits nurse all night and sleep all day. This rabbit was smart—she made her nest in the garden, which has a four-foot woven wire fence (designed to exclude rabbits), topped by eight feet of nylon deer mesh. I had left the door ajar in late winter, since there was nothing to protect any more, and she had availed herself of this protected enclosure.

When thunderstorms moved in in the afternoon, I took our old green wheelbarrow and leaned it against the straw bale, making a secure roof with a nice mama rabbit entry beneath. I smiled, looking out at it as the rain lashed down, knowing she’d crawl under that wheelbarrow tonight and find her babies warm, dry and hungry. Look out. Bunny lips.Since the bunnies’ eyes are open, it will be only a matter of days before they leave the nest, and when I’m sure they’re out of the garden, I’ll secure it again. I have no desire to be Mr. McGregor to her Flopsy and Peter.
I'll tell you all about the trip to Ithaca, but it will keep. The bunnies had to come first.The kids and I checked them this morning. I found them April 9, and today, April 13, they're so fat and big they fill the nest. Their huffing is more impressive but it still doesn't scare me away. It's been raining pretty much ever since the 9th, but the wheelbarrow is keeping them perfectly dry and cozy. I'd say those are some lucky bunnies, living here in a fenced garden. I am preparing Mrs. Cottontail's eviction notice, which I plan to deliver about when the sugar snap peas start coming up.