Kwami was particularly intrigued. As we drove down the hill toward Langley, Whidbey Island, there were several furry friends having lunch in the grass. Rather, lunch was the grass. The rabbits ranged in color from beige to taupe to black, definitely not the wild variety.
I have visited Langley, WA, but I have never experienced this before! I spent some time lamenting about the care of domestic rabbits gone wild. They often suffer and starve in the winter, not inherently created for our landscape. I mused that perhaps they were city props, fixed before release, fed in the winter.
There is a sort of softness that goes with a city overrun by these creatures, casually roaming the sidewalks. An appeal. I felt… understood. Welcomed. Warmed.
Upon investigation when we returned home, I found an NBC piece titled “Hundreds of Bunnies Plague Langley”. Plagued? Really? In 2015, they didn’t know what the word plague meant. Apparently, city residents wanted to (or maybe did) unleash the raptors. Maybe there are raptors we could unleash on Covid 19, a presidential suggestion coming soon.
There had been an escape from the fair internment camps. The rabbits plotted in the night. Jail break. And now, they are very successfully taking over, free roaming the island, breeding at will.
The Scourge. I’m having trouble with this horrible plague. Maybe I can’t take their happy little hops or their fluffy little tails or the vigorously wiggling noses all that seriously. Worst case scenario… “there’s very good eatin’ on one of these, you know.” (Terry Pratchett, Small Gods)