The mythology at our home is that – because of Precious Mae – we no longer have a rabbit problem. Precious Mae spends hours hunkered down on the bridge over our creek – really a sort of drainage ditch to cut-off water coming down the hill – guarding our home from rabbits and other varmints. This afternoon, when -without my glasses – I saw a rabbit in the garden ( I knew I was right because of the backlight coming through his, her’s, or its ears, but I wasn’t positive).
After a very short search, I found my glasses and then the camera – Shoot! no compact flash memory card in the camera – then a memory card, and then went out to take a shot. As soon as I walked out on the deck, Precious Mae, who had sort of been lounging around in the house, made a a beeline to the bridge. With my glasses, all I saw were quail for about three or four minutes, then I caught the rabbit hopping towards the path. Precious Mae was off. A killing machine at full efficiency.
There is going after the rabbit – any prey for that matter – and getting the rabbit. They are very different things. Once Precious Mae confronted the rabbit, everything sort of fell apart. The rabbit may have only been one third of her size, but there was no question the rabbit had been trained in anti-cat tactics and locked Precious Mae in a Death-stare that she just managed to escape, leaving the rabbit – for the time being, only – in charge of the path.
Thank the stars it wasn’t a wild turkey! Miss Precious has really come out of her shell hasn’t she?
Has her new nic name become Elmer Fudd?
Laura, about once or twice a week, she will come into the house doing the high-speed-low-crawl and hide under the dinningroom table; she does get scared pretty easily.
Malcolm, I am ready to forgive Precious for this one, the wabbit was obviously the same species that attacked Jimmy Carter (and, I guess you could say, left him permanently wounded).