A Hare-y Tale
Having just enjoyed a tasty evening meal with a dear friend at Susie's Diner, a quaint little bistro on W Nicholson St, I was feeling very satisfied as I strolled up the hill to my flat and beheld the glorious spectacle of a setting sun. Fair weather in Edinburgh is somewhat of a rare commodity- ephemeral and when availble, only in limited supply- so I wanted to savour the moment. I made my way to the edge of the hill atop the gardens to linger awhile. I filled my lungs with the cool crepuscular air, feeling thankful for the blessing of breath, of sight and sound, of flavour and fragrance, of touch, of attraction. In short, I was feeling rather pleased to be alive and could not imagine how my serene state could be much improved. It was at this moment that I noticed some bunnies scurrying about on the pasture, wiggling their little bunny tails and scrunching their little bunny noses. They were nibbling on blades of grass. Still lingering in my aforementioned sunny disposition, I decided to refine the rabbits' meal by adding some crunchy carrots to their salad. I wanted to go up to my flat to retrieve the said carrots, but I did not want to lose sight of the rabbits. I do not know why I thought the rabbits would remain under my watchful eye any longer than if I had simply gone away to fetch the carrots, but it seemed like a logical assumption at the time. Maybe I was just lazy. Anyway, I saw that my kitchen window was ajar and hoped it meant that one of my flatmates was home. I have three flatmates. Chris, the Canadian, practically lives at his girlfriend's flat and has not been seen for many days. Shunichi, the Japanese, does not usually return from his office until nine or ten. It was only eight o'clock, and with my keen and perceptive mind, I quickly deduced that the most likely candidate to be home was my third flatmate, Moses the Kenyan. And so I called out in my medium-volume voice,
"Moses! Moses! Are you there, Moses?"
I must admit I felt a little like the Almighty. I half expected to see an Israelite emerge and respond 'here I am!' and maybe take off his sandals, too. But there was no response, Hebrew or otherwise, so I tried again, this time a little louder,
"Moses! Moses! Where are you, Moses?"
Perhaps if I was not a Bible student and did not know the Exodus stories so well, I would not have felt so very self-concious. Or delusional. I was now using my outdoor voice,
"MOSES! Are you home?"
I was aware that by now I was disturbing my own equilibrium and probably that of those around me (mostly tourists), but I was determined the rabbits enjoy their favourite food tonight. I turned up the volume and repeated my summon for several minutes longer.
"MOSES!!!"
My efforts were not wasted, however, and my persistance was finally rewarded when Moses eventually came to the open window.
"Hi, Jonathan. Why are you calling me?"
"Hi Moses. Hey, can you throw me some carrots?" I said in my medium-loud voice.
He looked genuinely flummoxed but diappeared as if to retrieve something. He came back with a box of japanese postcards that feature a variety of sushi on the front. I shook my head to indicate that it was not what I had asked for. After all, he was on the third floor and I could not fault him for not hearing me. I started to use my outdoor voice again,
"NO! NOT CARDS. CARROTS. CARE-RUTS!"
I made a gesture of chomping into an imaginary carrot and started chewing the imaginary bite.
"CARE-RUTS. THEY'RE IN THE FRIDGE. FOR RABBITS."
I pointed towards the rabbits on the grass. Moses, bless his heart, gave me a big grin and disappeared from the window once more.
"I see the rah-beets. Here ya go, Jonathan," he said, and threw me the bag of carrots from the third-story window.
Much relieved to see that the rabbits did not decide to vacate the gardens during the ordeal, I started breaking up pieces of carrot to throw at them. Each time I would throw a piece of carrot, the rabbits would suddenly put on an appearance of alertneess, with their ears perked straight up, as though to say 'I know something is up...I don't know what- but something is definitely up." To my consternation, they did not seem to be aware that they were being showered with their favorite food. Here they were, rabbits surrounded by carrots, and they seemed completely oblivious to the fact! Hunters rabbits are not. Pretty soon I had littered most of the area with pieces of carrots, and apart from their spasmodic displays of alertness as the projectiles hit the lawn, the ungrateful little rascals were insouciant towards my efforts, insensitive to my kind-hearted generosity. I lingered for about half an hour, watching these little lawnmowers devour everything in their paths except the carrots. By then it was getting dark and, feeling quite resigned, I got ready to go inside. Just before I turned to leave, one of the rabbits hopped up to a piece of carrot and started gnawing on it, just like they do in the cartoons.
Photo Credit: jparakilas @ Flickr.Com
posted by Jon at 5:28 PM
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