When Willy and I made it home from work, we feasted on chicken (not THOSE chickens), corn and biscuits and hastened to our task: Clean out the bedding area behind the house. The Mistress of the Blog decided to extend and enclose the bed and plant squash and pumpkins as neighbors to the rhubarb. The dirt needed moving and the roots had to go.
Out came the pulaski and shovel, the tractor and a pull strap. I started scraping away at the earth. Now, I'm not yet proficient in the use of the front end loader; some times I don't even get a shovelful. Today, though, I once managed to fill the entire bucket! O frabjous day!
We had progressed to the point of wrapping the strap around a cluster of roots and suckers in a futile attempt to pull them free when Willy said, "what's that?" I looked to where he was pointing and there was Peter and Flopsy, poking their sightless noses out of a tiny hole at the base of the cherry stump. Sightless, indeed, as these bunnies weren't more than a few days old. In fact, we only determine the species by observing the lagomorphic tendency toward nose-twitching.
We endeavored not to disturb the wee creatures while trying to continue the mission as best as we could. Unsuccessfully. At one point, while sawing away at the recalcitrant suckers, Flopsy, Mopsy, Peter and two players to be named later came out to complain about the ruckus. From that point, the mission was a wash. We'll sit back and see whether Momma B returns, or they become owl food.
Now, before you all fuss and fume about how we should protect these bunnies, be assured I gave that some passing thought. The problem is, I have found, whenever you meddle with nature, nature meddles back. Humankind invariably makes a hash of well-intentioned "helping", usually to the detriment of the "helpee". So we'll watch the bunnies, keep the dogs away, and let you know what happens.