The Tale of Peter Wabbit

by Renae Brumbaugh

Last week we were burglarized. This week, Superman and I set up a security system to keep it from happening again. The system is comprised of a hundred yards of chicken wire, some rebar stakes, and some landscaping pins to clip it all to the ground. We KNOW who did it, though we can’t prove it. Those cute little, wide-eyed, cottontail bunnies may look all sweet and innocent, but late Saturday night they broke into our garden and had a wild party like a bunch of underage hooligans. They vandalized my property and stole a cluster of carrots, some okra, a mess of black-eyed peas, and two almost-ready-to-pick eggplants. As I type this, I’m sitting in my yard, and one of the long-eared mobsters is twenty feet from me, looking at me, mocking me with those enormous chocolate-colored eyes. Well, mock away, Peter-the-Crook Cottontail. We’ll see who has the last laugh. I feel like Mrs. McGregor. And suddenly, Elmer Fudd is my biggest hero. I’ve never liked rabbits. Not since my cousin’s pet rabbit mistook my finger for a carrot when I was four. But in the years since that fateful day, I thought I’d gained a level of tolerance, of acceptance, even fondness for the little guys. I liked watching them frolic around my yard . . . and for a while there, I made the mistaken assumption that we could peacefully coexist. Then they had to go and invite every Bugs and Roger and Jessica in the neighborhood for a disco-partyglutton- fest in my garden. I’ll bet Eddie provided the live music. I should have listened more in Sunday School. The Bible warns us about those furry little, wide-eyed mammals. They’re not always as innocent as they seem. Okay, so it doesn’t say rabbits, specifically. But it does say that wolves will often come to us in sheep’s clothing. Cute, curly-haired sheep, with all their baaa-baaas and nursery rhyme songs. Watch out. Things aren’t always as they appear to be. I’ve gotten snookered by beautiful, sweet-talkin’ charmers, more than once. When it comes to people, I think I’m too trusting. Too naïve. Not that it’s good to be suspicious of everyone, but it is always wise to investigate a person’s character before giving them free rein in your garden. It’s good to build fences around our most vulnerable places, so the wolves and the rabbits of the world don’t eat our produce for lunch. But we should always build a gate, too, so we can let the good folks in. Like farmers. And Superman. And Elmer Fudd. I should have known those rabbits couldn’t be trusted. They’re rabbits, and nibbling at produce is what they do. Now my garden is secure, and they’ll have to find another place to party. But I still have to go in and replant my peas and carrots. As for the eggplants, I may not bother with them. After all, I have chickens for that. “Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves,” Matthew 7:15 NIV.