It is said that the effect of eating too much lettuce is soporific.
Soporific? My greens are FBR’s three-stage pulse-booster.
Remember that man with the red bandana who ate acorns because he liked them? And stalked wild asparagus from the Rio Grande to the Arctic Circle?
Well, my Eastern Cottontail is head-over-heels in love with that same primal act of grazing. Tendrils, vines, and pods ~ he doesn’t miss a sprout. His milieu is my garden plot where he noshes and frolics at hurricane force. Sylvilagus floridanus is unswervingly driven and bags satisfying snacks till the cows come home.
FBR is an epicure of sorts – plunging into the sweet baby greens, snubbing the spicy arugula. He pays me in ‘cocoa puffs’.
According to the Immutable Law of Critters, the old-stalk-and-pounce-act of our resident fox should be FBR’s undoing. (It sure makes my hair stand on end.)
FBR is just like the wily fugitive roaming the streets of Milwaukee, dodging paparazzi, only without a Twitter account…yet.
My turbo-charged hare is an expert at survival, buoyant with entitlement. He creates the impression that he can thrive without my help, comes and goes with reckless confidence, and eats like an offensive lineman at training camp. He knows what he’s after, poring over rows of greens like a rare manuscript.
Going into gardens to eat lettuce is what FBR does. Chasing him out is what I do.
(With a nod to Beatrix Potter’s subversive side~ see The Tale of Peter Rabbit, in which a selfish bunny is menaced by a man with a gun who shoots off his tail and whiskers.)