Regular readers of this blog will know about the damage that rabbits inflicted on our echinaceas this spring - amongst a series of destructive forays into our garden by the local wildlife. I sorted the deer out by forcing them to listen to Radio Cymru. But I was forced to resort to artillery to deal with the grey squirrels and rabbits - in the form of local marksman Willy Cooke. The command to shoot on sight was given several weeks ago. Nothing happened except that our echinaceas remained chewed off, a bit like Nick's fingernails. Until this morning.
Early hours, and I was midst a rather pleasant dream - which ended in an unexpected 'bang'. It was Willy, with his big gun. There followed a 'gang' of 'bangs'. The garden was a war zone. I just stuck my head under the pillow and hoped there was not too much collateral damage. I lay back in my bed, imaging autumnal echinaceas in all their glory.
My problem is that I'm a bit soft hearted about these things. The reason I recruited Hot Shot Willy was that I really don't like killing living creatures myself. Oh I know its hypocrisy. I'm just as guilty if I give the orders. Its just easier if I don't have to see the murder that is carried out in my name. But do you know what Hot Shot did. He lined up all the carcasses in a row on the drive - a bit like Smokey used to parade his dead mice around the sitting room. The message was "Look what I've succeeded in doing". Anyway, as we were breakfasting, there was a rabbit busily scratching a hole in the top lawn, no more than 10 yards from the window. Such bloody defiance. Its toughening me up. I hope tomorrow mornings dream ends with a 'bang' as well.
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