by Sara Schewe

Created on: August 24, 2009   Last Updated: October 23, 2009

I grew up gardening with my mom and quickly learned the thrill of pulling a carrot out of the ground, rinsing it off with the garden hose, and eating it as a snack in the backyard. I also learned the frustration of trying to keep the little creatures of the neighborhood away from the food we worked so hard to grow.

Each year, my dad helped out by putting up a fence around the garden, in an effort to keep the animals out. For the most part it worked, with the exception of the bunnies. They were tricky little buggers; some would burrow underneath the fence, some were able to jump over it.

Late one summer, as dusk settled and my mother prepared to water the plants before we went inside the house for the evening, a strange occurrence took place. We didn't see an adult rabbit in the garden, we saw a baby. And then a second baby. And then a third.

As my mom and I looked at each other, confusion registered on our faces. How did these little babies make their way into the garden? The fence was too high for them, and a thorough check proved it to be impossible for them to have burrowed underneath.

Without notice, an adult rabbit leaped over the fence, leaving the garden behind. Understanding dawned as we realized our garden was home to a family of bunnies, and shock quickly turned into laughter.

It made perfect sense. We imagined the female rabbit, looking for a safe haven to birth her babies. Better yet, a haven containing a plethora of food, from carrots to petunias. A fenced-in garden would be perfect! Her babies would be safe and food was abundant...what more could a mother want?

Unfortunately, we simply couldn't allow the bunny family to remain in the garden, but we also did not want to hurt them. What began next drew the attention of the entire neighborhood. My mom turned on the water and readied the sprayer.

Ice cream pail in hand, I prepared to catch baby bunnies. Our neighbors acted as bunny spotters, alerting my mom to the location of each furry little creature. As my mom used the spray of water to guide them towards my pail, I quickly ran each baby bunny over to our neighbor's yard to let them go. Their new home resembled a jungle, overgrown with plants, flowers, and weeds. The family of bunnies had more cover and food than before, and the owner didn't mind that her yard was their new home.

To this day, almost three decades later, my mother and I both have an annual battle with the bunnies. However, neither of us bothers with a fence any longer, as it's proven to be no match for the bunnies.

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