Pesky Wabbits
Two days ago, I was more than surprised to see one of the wild bunnies, from the field opposite, looking suspicious on my next door neighbour's drive. Convinced that this rabbit had to be up to no good, I peered a little closer. Nonchalantly it turned to throw me a glance, then disappeared under the hedge. On inspection everything appeared to be normal, no incendiary device left behind, or any other heinous reminder that there had been a rabbit there. The hours ticked on, and slowly my thoughts moved away from the furry horror.
The following morning, I drew back the bedroom curtains and looked out into the back garden. Bounce, bounce, hop, bounce! I blinked a couple of times, just to make sure I was not still sleeping, but there it was, the same rabbit, now brazenly bouncing around our lawn. It seemed to spot me, stopping to glare up at my horrified face, before hopping into the rockery surrounding our pond. Certain that it was nibbling at the flora, I glared back as it sat sheltering from the mist of rain, underneath one of the conifers. Drip, shake, drip, bounce, shake, drip. Indignantly I left the rabbit to its scheming, and marched off to locate the camera.
Half expecting the bunny to have miraculously vanished, now that I could photographically incriminate it, I looked outside, secretly glad that it was still where I'd last seen it. Deciding that 'Operation Rabbit Cam' would work best from the patio windows, I rushed downstairs, and positioned myself accordingly.
Bounce, bounce, glare, bounce, the rabbit approached. We eyed each other up, seconds passing like minutes; I snapped several shots off, then waited. Suddenly the furry invader sat bolt upright, as if waiting for orders from the General of some hidden rabbit army lurking on the periphery of my garden. I continued taking more photos, still unaware of the dangers ahead.
The rabbit charged, I loomed forwards, with only a window pane between us, and with one quick glance we both realized the potential horror of each other's actions. The bunny retreated back to my pond rockery, and I stood gazing down at my three troughs of baby lettuces, suddenly feeling Mr McGregor.
The following morning, I drew back the bedroom curtains and looked out into the back garden. Bounce, bounce, hop, bounce! I blinked a couple of times, just to make sure I was not still sleeping, but there it was, the same rabbit, now brazenly bouncing around our lawn. It seemed to spot me, stopping to glare up at my horrified face, before hopping into the rockery surrounding our pond. Certain that it was nibbling at the flora, I glared back as it sat sheltering from the mist of rain, underneath one of the conifers. Drip, shake, drip, bounce, shake, drip. Indignantly I left the rabbit to its scheming, and marched off to locate the camera.Half expecting the bunny to have miraculously vanished, now that I could photographically incriminate it, I looked outside, secretly glad that it was still where I'd last seen it. Deciding that 'Operation Rabbit Cam' would work best from the patio windows, I rushed downstairs, and positioned myself accordingly.
Bounce, bounce, glare, bounce, the rabbit approached. We eyed each other up, seconds passing like minutes; I snapped several shots off, then waited. Suddenly the furry invader sat bolt upright, as if waiting for orders from the General of some hidden rabbit army lurking on the periphery of my garden. I continued taking more photos, still unaware of the dangers ahead.
The rabbit charged, I loomed forwards, with only a window pane between us, and with one quick glance we both realized the potential horror of each other's actions. The bunny retreated back to my pond rockery, and I stood gazing down at my three troughs of baby lettuces, suddenly feeling Mr McGregor.
