Bunny Boy

Another Hatchett job, bunny, gardening, photo by Ethan HatchettLast year, I battled our wascally wabbit to keep him out of our garden. I figured that this little guy had plenty of grass and little shrubby bits on our acreage without decimating our food crops, small though they may be.

In very early Spring, the family made a sweaty day of shoveling old manure and hay into Grandpa’s truck and hauling it home and mounding it on the garden beds, around our lilac and blueberry bushes. Since we weren’t entirely sure how “hot” the nitrogen levels were, we opted to not start seedlings this year and purchase some plants after the manure had time to sit a while.

Today, younger son and I went to our local WalMart (no, I am not thrilled with Wally World, but it is kind of unavoidable around our area and it really was much cheaper per plant this time) to get bedding plants. We were able to find 8 strong tomato plants that were all heirloom varieties that we had wanted to try and two hybrid jalapenos (no heirlooms available). We will augment these with others each payday until our planting beds are full.

Upon returning, I carried an armload of plants out to the garden and heard the sounds of a bunny bounding through the underbrush on the edge of the clearing.Another Hatchett Job, bunny, gardening, creative commons attribution

As is my custom, I talked to him and looked around until I spotted him, haughty and sitting upright on the edge of our path into the woods. This has proven to be one seriously bold bunny. He carefully watched me putting plants out into their places to be planted shortly. He cautiously crept closer.

When younger son followed me down with the rest of the plants, I reminded him that we would have to be diligent about making sure that our pallet gate (rigged to the max) was closed tightly and not just propped in place to keep bunny out. He laughed and thought I was being a bit paranoid about the bunny battles that were sure to ensue over the summer.

At just that moment, I smiled and quietly asked him to look over toward our path and, as he turned, our bunny friend (possibly frenemy) startled, jumped, and quickly turned to run, his cotton tail bouncing off into the brush.

He was watching our every move. Wascally Wabbit, indeed!

Till next time,

Another Hatchett Job blog, signature, Jan Hatchett

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