The Rabbit's New Year

Mrs. Rabitowitz.
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On New Year's Eve I painted a little portrait of Mrs. Rabitowitz - just as a sort of memorial. She is dead of course, mysteriously murdered, perhaps poisoned. I miss her terribly. She liked to be around me as I tidied up the yard and did my chores. She was especially attentive during the winter months when I put out feed for her and the other critters and of course the birds. She wasn't at all afraid of me, and she was always respectful of the gardens.
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Sadly, her relatives are not quite as civilized. They are voracious eaters... eater bunnies, I call them. Perhaps Mrs. Rabitowitz had been too indulgent with her little ones, but I rather think the trauma of her early demise, the tragedy of the circumstances of her death, as well as growing up on their own without a mother - I think that may account for the new generation's disrespect for boundaries and their avaricious behavior.
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At any rate, the new generation of rabbits is eating my hedge row - last year they killed out a section of the back cotoneaster wall, this year they are going after the south wall. They eat the bark of the mature stems, just as the squirrels consume the bark of the lilac trees. This despite the fact I have provided nutritious feed for all of them, comprised of seeds and nuts and hard grains. Unfortunately for the birds, I've had to stop feeding for now, and I've resorted to spreading granulated fox urine throughout the hedge row, although I noticed new footprints in today's fresh snow.
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In the meantime I will pray St. Martin De Porres to help out, he is very persuasive with little critters. I'll continue some of the natural fox granules before doing anything else. I'm considering a 'Have-A-Heart' trap and possible relocation, although that would be my last resort. I couldn't kill any of them.
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I don't like killing.  I've even gone so far as to have an arrangement with the mouses that they may not live in the house, although they are welcome to come into the garage when it gets too cold. I have a little bag of peat that they can either snuggle in or take from for their nests - peat warms a nest nicely - I found that out from a gnome many years ago.
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Young mice can be rather impetuous... they sometimes 'forget' and attempt to barge in, but the cat takes care of them when they dare to do that. Last year a very handsome young mouse got in. Xena was still alive, and as heavy as she was I woke up to what sounded like a wrestling match going on. I got out of bed to see what all the ruckus was in the middle room. Both Agnes and Xena were standing somewhat proudly over the tail of the Zebra rug. Still rather drowsy, it appeared to me a portion of it had been torn away. As I bent over to pick it up I realized it was a very striking, young mouse, black as coal, his coat so shiny as to glisten in the night light from the hall. Sadly, I disposed of his still warm carcass, congratulated the cats, washed my hands and went back to sleep. The story must have gotten around, because there hasn't been a mouse in the house since.
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I wish animals were more understanding of domestic rules.  But I digress...
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As I began to tell you, for New Year's Eve, I painted the portrait of Mrs. Rabitowitz alongside the hedge.  She often sat exactly like that when I came out.  In her honor, I shot off a few small fireworks leftover from summer as the clock struck midnight.
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Today is the 11th day of Christmas by the way, and tomorrow is 12th Night...  happy Christmas!