I watched five lanes of traffic on Highway 38 at the 401 stop dead to let a confuddled puddle duck and her brood of seven fuzzy ducklings negotiate the crossing of the road. First she would head one way, make it almost all the way across and change her mind. Then she would repeat the process in the other direction. It was heartbreaking to see how upset she was, and how her children followed her every move. It took five traverses before the family made it safely into the woods beyond the Park'n'Ride. The great thing was that no-one seemed to begrudge the time it took to let this happen. I only hope they found their way to the big swamp to the west.
They're eating everything...Lettuces, beets, chard, and they have a definite fondness for eggplant, especially the oriental long ones. I have asked God to send me a fox. In the meantime, I have discovered that I'm a dab hand at trowel throwing. I actually hit one, but its a light carbon fibre trowel so it only skeered him a bit. Which is actually all I want to do.
Other mammals in the garden tonight were a baby weasel (long may his rabbit hunting soul prosper) and a full grown vole (who can stay only as long as he doesn't eat the produce, or until the weasel gets him, whichever comes first). Who knew gardening was such a blood sport. And speaking of blood, we've spread blood meal around everything a rabbit might find remotely tasty.
Oddly enough, the carrots are untouched. These are undoubtedly hipster rabbits. Nothing predictable for them. And they're locavores to boot. And I'd like to.