Chet Baker's Morning Bunneh

There's this bunny who chewed his way into my vegetable garden, through a double thickness of nylon crop netting that we thought would suffice for our door, and has over the past few weeks laid waste to my Swiss chard and sweet potatoes. I would love to go all Mr. MacGregor on his a-s. Scare the bejabbers out of him, make him tear his best waistcoat and lose his brass button and one of his tiny slippers so when he gets home his mama whups him with a willow wand.

So far the bunny is winning. I'm banking on his getting too fat to squeeze back out the fencing, which he seems to be able to do so far.

So it is with great pleasure that I daily sicc Chet Baker on him. Though he is young this bunny is nobody's fool, and he keeps a watchful eye on the front door. Here is a typical morning bunneh session. Chet had been standing, trembling a little, observing this rabbit for a couple of minutes when I decided to break the tension with a little goading.

We don't call him Black Lightning for nothing. That's an 8-year-old dog, folks, and ain't nothin' slow or flabby about him. 56 and feeling fine.

In the background you can hear, in order, 

ruby-throated hummingbirds chittering overlain over a

downy woodpecker rattling (descending chatter)

eastern towhee (Yer tea!! Drink yer tea!!)

more hummingbirds 

fledgling Carolina wrens (Squick! Squick!)

white-eyed vireo (chickperweeoo!)

Good boy, waiting for ribeye scraps.



The new charcoal grill is so very slow. I preferred Daddeh's gas grill. I predict he will go back to gas. I certainly do. Regularly.