Earlier this year I went to a great deal of trouble to dig up and grass over a couple of flower beds in the garden thus reducing the amount of weeding required in order to keep the place looking tidy. Everything went according to plan, I threw down enough grass seed to increase the size of the lawn and also feed any birds that happened to stop by.
With all the rain that we had at the beginning of the summer, the seeds grew like a champ and before long the bare rectangle was covered by a fine layer of green. I cordoned off the area in order to keep anyone, especially my husband, the mailman and the neighborhood kids, from stepping on the new blades of grass and everything seemed to be going along fine until disaster struck.
Large brown patches began to appear on the newly grown grass. Now I realize there are plenty of reasons why this can happen; too much rain, grubs, dog wee, to name but a few. But I know better! There’s only one culprit out there that has it in for me to this extent. The rabbit!
Ever since I put this grass seed down he’s been hopping over to check it out, darting under the carefully-placed string cordon quicker than a teenybopper at a Justin Bieber concert. It started out with just one but, as is usual with rabbits, one quickly developed into four. First thing in the morning and then in the early evening they’d be out there, nibbling at what I hoped were the weeds that were appearing along with the grass shoots. For days I watched them as they congregated on what they obviously considered to be ‘their patch.’
“Why don’t you chase them away?” my husband asked reasonably enough.
“I can’t! They’re so cute. I haven’t got the heart to frighten them off,” I answered. He shook his head and wandered off.
“Alright!” I called after him. “I know I’m being a weak willy but I can’t help it!”
He was right, of course. Well, no more Mr Nice Guy (or the female equivalent.) I’d tell those rabbits a thing or two. I flung open the window and screamed at them.
“STOP WIDDLING ON MY LAWN!”
The rabbits didn’t seem to take any notice but an elderly neighbor who was outside deadheading his roses looked startled as though I’d caught him doing something he shouldn’t.
The next morning I looked out to see four furry bodies stretched supine on what remained of the embryonic patch of grass. They gazed at me blankly as I shook my fist impotently in their direction. “Don’t think you’ve heard the last of this!” I yelled, but of course they have. They’ve won again. I’ve come to the conclusion that all the heat generated by their mangy carcases while lounging about on my would-be-lawn has killed every living thing there. I’ll have to rake it all out and start again in the fall when they hopefully will have moved on to greener pastures.