Mostly I’m a horse who rolls with whatever life throws at me. And often that means rollin in the literal sense of it, down in the warm and fluffy sand of the prancin arena inside our own horse-corral. A horse sees stuff from a different point of view down there in the sand, at eye-level with all the little critters that run ramshackle around the County Island. And mostly what runs ramshackle is rabbits.
I got sort of what’s called a complex relationship with rabbits. They’re no good, thievin varmints, as you may remember I told everybody about with my Bucket Bunny blog story, wherein the mother of all the bucket bunnies that was yet to come kept stealin the wooden spoons that our bucket gal uses to mix our bucket feed.
But, they’re also kinda friendly. And danged if they ain’t cute, as far as animals that ain’t horses go. I am fully aware, however, that it’s the cute that allows ‘em to get away with all the lyin and the thievin. Still, I don’t mind it when they come around my hay at feedin time. I’ve showed you some of my rabbits in the past, here at my County Island story blog, as for instance in Here’s a Rabbit, and also over at my Facebook Ranch. I’m a horse who knows how to share – well, except not with Original Coors, on account of he’s a pushy one. If you gave that horse an inch, he would surely take a mile. Y’all recall the Whiskey Rebellion? And not with Coors Light, neither, on account of he’s got his brother’s tendencies, and also on principle.
Anyhow, the other day when I was lyin in the warm, soft sand in the sun, at eye level with the ground, and at eye level with the bottom edge of the hay shed fortress in the distance, beyond the corral fence and on the other side of the padlock which not even Coors Light can pick, I spied a rabbit diggin a tunnel under the bottom of the hay shed and in to it! Inside, to where all the glorious hay, and especially the glorious alfalfa hay, is kept! Them rabbits have been tryin to breach that wall for generations upon generation now, and looks like one of ‘em finally made it. I thought the only critters that could get inside where the tiny pack rat pests I told you about before, and the snakes and the scorpions which make the bucket gal scream louder than a calf under the brandin iron.
I reckon this means the tunnel hole into the hay shed’s gettin bigger. First it could fit a pack rat, now it can fit a whole rabbit. Any time now, I suspect it could fit a horse, too. Which means we three horses have got to get more serious about how a horse could bust the lock. Or remain ever more vigilant to when the bucket gal might forget to lock it. One of these days now, the hay fortress shed will be ours.