Over many years, successive generations of rabbits here have had nothing to fear from the procession of Newfoundlands who have owned me. Once Liquorice an Keaton passed through adolescence all those years ago, rabbits could, and would, cheerfully graze to within a few feet of either alleged “carnivore”, with the resident Newfoundland watching on benignly while the bunnies dined on the plentiful green. Occasionally the recumbent Newfoundland would issue forth with a huge “WOOF” attempting to assert their proper place in the food chain. The nearest bunny would raise its head inquisitively for a second or two, then, with an unconcerned “whatever” attitude, resume its meal. Ruggles was the same. With his crook joints Ruggsy didn’t bother the bunnies – Ruggles worked out early on that rabbits were faster and more maneuverable than he was, and worse, he understood that the rabbits knew it too!
With the “senior girl” Thriller’s arrival here, that happy tradition seemed destined to continue. However, Thriller seems to have acquired a sudden fascination with bunnies – coincident with, a few days ago, Thriller finding some active burrows over in an overgrown grove of native olives by the road. Before her discovery, when rabbits were nearby, her attitude was one of disinterest. They casually moved about, their scents of minimal interest, their existence was barely noted, her curiosity factor for rabbits was nil. Thriller’s eyesight is impaired, possibly the slow unhurried movements of nearby rabbits did not previously catch the venerable Miss’s attention, whereas she may have startled a bunny in the olives, which took flight with Thriller now knowing what all those fluffy blobs were.
Then this morning, Thriller barked just after the alarm clock sounded. The little love was letting me know that she was getting the urge to “go outside”. Then, when tossing on my clothes, Thriller charged outside to the breezeway gate. Half dressed, I too charged outside and opened the gate with the grateful Thriller squatting on the first available grass! I then finished getting dressed while Thriller presumably attended to other necessary matters – only when I returned outside, the little Miss was gone! I found her over by the front fence in the grove of wild native olives she found a couple of days ago replete with its bunny burrows. Thriller actually found the grove in her first days with me – only recently did the venerable Miss discover rabbit residences in there.
I saw Thriller in the distance, tail joyously wagging, then her Black form disappeared beneath the low canopy. On arrival, I could see the little love but could not get to her, plus my voice was then apparently the wrong pitch for the girl’s “selective hearing”. Suddenly there were “panicky sounds” coming from Thriller, like she was caught on something. I dashed about 10 or 12 yards downhill to where there was a way in, and crawling, battled the unyielding dead olive branches to finally reach Thriller, who by then was through the barbed wire fence with her head down a rabbit burrow. She removed said head from the burrow, furiously dug for a couple of seconds while issuing forth with more gleeful “panicky sounds”, before poking her head in the burrow again. I scrambled through the fence, then, when her head came up to make room for more excavation by powerful forelimbs, I placed a little slip-lead over her head and eventually led a reluctant girl away through more olives and onto the roadway. Too hard trying to get Thriller back through the barbed wire, so we walked 200 yards along the road to the front gate and returned home to dry clean Her Ladyship and then for our respective breakfasts.
Since finding those burrows, each time Thriller has been loose, that is where Her Ladyship goes.
Now Thriller’s predator ego seems to gain fulfillment when prey species respond as prey species ought to. On spying a rabbit taking flight, the aging but ever-hopeful Thriller will pour on the speed, accelerating from her usual “sedate” pace all the way up to a “semi-sedate” speed, though, by the time the lumbering Miss reaches where her quarry was, it is long gone! So, for now, Thriller is having her walks about the place on a long lead that she may still explore her realm, check the “pee-mail”, do her “border patrol”, etc, however she is unable “charge” after rabbits. Plus, though quivering with excitement, the venerable Miss is now required to sit when one or more bunnies are sighted.
There are other active burrows about Thriller’s domain, but Her Ladyship still ignores them, other than for a brief obligatory sniff when passing. Since the finding of the burrows over in the olives, rabbits suddenly have the highest priority. Something is different over there. Though still winter Downunder, I wonder Thriller could smell an early litter of baby bunnies down that burrow?
Arthur Witten
Thriller – As if my overweight, out-of-condition, over-the-hill lump of a dad could outrun me!!!!