A journalist observes life in the far north.
Sitting on the polished, oval-shaped piece of stone outside the gate to my garden today were two little brown turds about the size of one-year-old Lucky’s poop.
The rabbits in these parts have been breeding like … well … rabbits. Two or three of them can be found drooling at my fence-enclosed garden every morning.
Their hearing is very good. The noise of me cranking open the window to harass them is enough to frighten them away.
I read that pet rabbits need a quiet environment in order to thrive. I wonder if it’s due to their shyness or their exceptional hearing.
Without the wiry fence that Alec erected, I know the rabbits would have shredded my garden, home to cabbage, potatoes, lettuce, squash, sweet peas and strawberries.
One morning I came outside. A cabbage plant precariously close to the fence was party eaten. The rabbit must have eaten it through the gaps in the wires.
On our hikes, Lucky gets excited when catching glimpses of the bunnies, or their butts as they high-tail it away from us.
A neighbor said the rabbit population ebbs and flows. Some years, the rabbits invade.
I remember not long after moving to Alaska seeing hundreds of rabbits at once crossing a highway.
I was on the Richardson Highway headed to Valdez in the back seat of an SUV. I woke up, looked at the road and thought it was moving. It was a rabbit stampede.
Regretfully, I haven’t seen anything like that in my neighborhood.
Just two little brown pellet-sized poops.