Kris Jensen Blog

Posted by Paul

 It was a hot, dry August. The rabbits continue their usual multiplying hidden in the privacy of their warrens in the open space behind my home. But unlike previous years, the scorched plants on which they’d typically feed are dried up, making my fertilized and watered lawn, flowers and shrubs their preferred fare.

 I’ve tried lots of ways to convince them that my yard is not a safe haven for them, hoping they might find my neighbors’ “restaurants” open and inviting (those same neighbors who prattle on about how cute the little bunnies are). Not in my eyes. Not in comparison to how attractive my now-bloomless-and-leafless, once-flourishing plants are. Were, that is.

 What’s happening to me? I’m typically a nature lover, enjoying seeing animals in their natural environment as much as the next person. I’ve become reduced to an obsessed newspaper-throwing, water-gun-toting nut. (I’ve put the slingshot back in the garage, realizing after only a couple of tries that my only hope was that the rabbits would die laughing at my inability to aim.)

 That they were here first, of course, is of little consequence. What’s become of the old biblical notion that we pinnacles of creation should have dominion over all the other creatures of the earth? OK, forget that one. I’m not willing to take up the rest of the Old Testament injunctions with which I heartily disagree.

 It’s urban sprawl—and my active participation in it—for which I’m paying in the apparently legal tender of manicured flower beds and sod. These easiest of prey no longer have to be watchful of natural predators—and they certainly show no fear of this unnatural one. I’m often within three feet, running at them with waving arms, before they abandon their dining to move—this is true—a mere ten feet or so ahead of me. My wife’s laughter still rings in my ears from watching me futilely chasing a young rabbit around and around a pine tree. Having forced the foxes, owls, coyotes and others further into the countryside, there’s no one left to enforce population control, and to maintain a little respect from these herbivores for not blatantly dining in the open in broad daylight—and especially not in my backyard!

 I suppose my falling out with these rabbits is just one of perhaps countless examples of the natural consequences of human action. I know lots of folks cringe at the mere idea that we should think twice about the impact of our decisions on nature—that is, until those impacts inconvenience us personally. That’s the place I find myself in with these cottontails. Had I known when I bought this place that I’d be having this experience of frustration today, would I have bought nonetheless? Absolutely! But they’ve got me thinking, and not just about whether I should have bought the coyote-urine repellant instead of the fox-urine mixture (which proved totally ineffective). What is our rightful relationship with the world in which we live, and on which we depend? What is the right balance between our individual autonomy and rights and those of what we typically think of as “lesser beings?” We can read daily of how we are impacting Mother Earth—and not all in negative ways, I will quickly add. Amazing how mere rabbits have me thinking about global, environmental issues.

 Wait, there’s one now in the middle of the afternoon. While I’m gone, let me know your thoughts about living in and as a part of this wonderful world of nature!