Jason caught another mouse* last week -- a particularly feisty one that scratched at the trap all night and kept me awake until I kicked Jason in the shins and told him to move it outside or shove in the garbage disposal or something. He put it in the basement because he worried something else might attack the trap and eat it off the back deck and WHAT A SHAME THAT WOULD BE. The next day, he drove it all special to a big huge field far away from houses or office buildings or my goddamn good baking sheets. He turned away after watching it dash off into the high grass, but turned back around when he heard a tremendous SWOOSH...just in time to see the hawk flying away with the mouse in its claws.
*I KNOW. Oh God help me, I know. The first person to mention exterminators or poison traps or very small rodent-sized atomic bombs is more than welcome to come over and beat my husband with a common-sense stick, because my arms are plum tired out.
In other Stupid Nature news, a family of rabbits has moved onto our front lawn. It will likely not surprise you to hear that I've managed to make a Big Whole Thing about this, too.
We discovered the bunnies a few days ago, after we came home from a very nice family outing at yet another toddler carwash interactive fountain, and Jason found a baby bunny just sort of...lying there in the grass, in front of our house. Concerned that it was injured or something, he picked it up. And it proceeded to scream this horrible, terrible bunny scream, over and over again. REEEEEEEET! REEEEET! REEEEEEEEEEEEEET! REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!!!!!
Its anxiety was almost too much for me to bear and I started shrieking at Jason to PUT IT DOWN PUT IT DOWN MY INTERNET COMMENTERS TOLD ME THAT BABY BUNNIES CAN GET LITERALLY SCARED TO DEATH THAT ONE TIME AND MY INTERNET COMMENTERS KNOW STUFF LIKE THAT, and that's when I noticed that there were more baby bunnies hiding nearby, more sensibly in a patch of ivy.
And THEN I noticed the mama bunny had dashed over and was crouched nearby, eyeballing us with...I don't know, really big eyeballs, looking for all the world like she was about to fly at our necks and rip our jugulars out.
Exhibit A: Like this.
Exhibit B: And this.
Exhibit C: GRRRAAARRR PUT DOWN MAH BEBEH YOU DEAD NOW BITCH
Jason wisely put the baby bunny down and we all backed away, slowly. The mother bunny followed us, like she was unsure if we still had her baby or not, all the way to our front step. I tried to help.
"Over there! They're over there! Go get them! And then take them over there! In the woods! Away from the road! This isn't safe here!"
She didn't respond to pointing so I picked up a leaf and tried to throw it in the general direction of the babies, but it just got caught in a breeze and flitted backwards towards my legs.
At this point, Jason, Noah and Ezra were looking at me with a mixture of horror and pity. They went inside while I continued to berate the rabbit about her choice of nesting grounds.
I gave up after...awhile and came inside. The rabbit stayed rightthere, outside our door, staring at us with the crazy eyes. FOR HOURS.
(I know because I checked. A lot.)
And she still hasn't left. Nor have the baby bunnies. We find them randomly crouched on the lawn; they scatter whenever we water the garden; we've watched them tumble headfirst down the cement steps in a braindead panic; we've even found them waiting for us by the front door.
Exhibit D: OH HAI.
And of course, their crazy-eyed mother likes to show up from time to time too.
Exhibit E: Objects in photo may be more foul-tempered than they appear.
Most of the time, though, the babies are left to fend for themselves, which I know is NORMAL and all, but oh my God, it stresses me out. I feel like I'm babysitting, and therefore obligated to go out from time to time and conduct roll call and take attendance and herd them away from the road and open spaces, so I can now be frequently spotted outside in high heels, clapping my hands and yelling at things that nobody else can see to HIDE IN THE MUMS, YOU MORONS.
Exhibit F: MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!!!11!!
My plan is to essentially harass them enough that the mother rabbit will finally be all, "screw this, we're moving across the street" where they will be somebody else's problem. Or until someone in the neighborhood reports me to the police as That Crazy Lady Who Yells At Her Mulch All The Time.
Jason doesn't understand my obsession with the rabbits, since they are very much a nuisance, and I've always regarded them with the same callous callousness in which I view the mice -- we had a couple get into our backyard last year who liked eating our vegetable garden and I used to watch for them so I could let Ceiba out and watch the high-speed chase that always ensued, which was HILARIOUS. (Though I intervened the one time she caught one because...well, EW.) Plus, I am aware that they are, truly, just rats with better costumes. But. Babiessss! Who are only thisbig! With wittle white tails! I can't help myself. One day they will be free to be hawk-food or roadkill, but NOT ON MY WATCH, ASSHOLES.
Exhibit G: Also, I fear this one might kill me in my sleep. REET REET REET REET!