Is My Rabbit Fence Useless?

Last year my beautiful garden bed of salad greens was decimated in one night by a gang of rabbits. All of the spinach, romaine, and arugula were chewed down to little nubs overnight. They didn’t touch the Swiss Chard for some reason, so we ate a lot of that last summer. Got pretty tired of Swiss Chard.

This year I was determined to not let a rabbit attack happen again. In March, I built a rabbit fence from 3-foot-high metal fencing with 2-inch mesh, supported by metal T-stakes to support it. The rabbit fence was buried one foot below ground and folded outwards beneath the ground so rabbits couldn’t dig under it to gain access to my always delightful smorgasbord. Sylvilagus floridanus would pillage no more.

Did the rabbit fence work?

A few days ago while checking my tomato seedlings, I thought I saw a rabbit run past me. It happened so fast, in the blink of an eye, that it was one of those did that just happen? moments. In March, I had worked my ass off putting that rabbit fence in and felt confident that no rabbit would be able to breach it. Magically, the rabbit disappeared from the corner I tracked him to, instilling great doubt in me. Had he dematerialized?

I was confused. It was very early in the morning, I was fresh out of bed, and I only saw the “rabbit” in my peripheral vision, so I wasn’t exactly sure it had actually happened. But since my trusty dog Belle was all excited, jumping up and down and staring off into the distance at something, I figured it probably was true.

I checked every inch of the rabbit fence that afternoon, and everything was intact. Just to be safe, I re-wired some possible but unlikely entry points. I must have imagined it, I thought. Maybe I was hallucinating without my first cup of caffeine. I must have mistaken a squirrel for a rabbit because he couldn’t just disappear like that.

Rabbit, Dog, and Man trapped in a battle of wills

Today I was eating my lunch, staring out the kitchen window when what to my wondering eyes should appear but a big, fat rabbit walking slowly through my garden like he was the Garden King. I wasn’t having any of it.

Throwing down my plate and fork, I rallied my trusty mutt Belle, slipped on a pair of old sneakers (untied) near the door and we went bounding down the yard and into the garden. “A bunny Belle, catch the bunny!”  When I say this her ears stand up and her legs move twice as fast as her canine eyes scan the perimeter.

I jumped over into the garden fence, Belle ran to the far side. I started clapping my hands and making loud sounds to flush the rabbit out from behind the thick raspberry brambles. Rabbit appeared, ran to the far end to make his escape, saw Belle, did a one-eighty, ran back towards me, saw me, stopped dead in his tracks, considering his options. His nose twitched and his evil, beady little black eyes locked on me.

I started walking towards him, stalking the prey which had eluded me these many years. Belle began to slowly close the gap. Rabbit, the bane of my gardening existence, was finally within my grasp. Oh, what I’d do to Rabbit when I picked him up by his fat scruffy neck, fattened on my greens. Our epic struggle was about to end. He was cornered like Steve McQueen on his motorcycle in The Great Escape. One minute to theme music and credits.

As if launched from a cannon, Rabbit turned ninety degrees and bounded down the path between the two longest raised garden beds. I gave chase, Belle followed on the far side. Rabbit turned hard right down the next path, then hard left to the front of the rabbit fence and JUMPED THE FENCE LIKE IT WAS NOTHING, LIKE HE USED A TRAMPOLINE TO GO OVER IT! Rabbit kept running, impossibly fast for Belle to catch, although she tried…for about seven seconds. I almost wept. The struggle is real.