When I was a kid, my mom raised chickens in the backyard. I often heard the hens clucking and the rooster crowing. Eventually they made it to our Sunday dinner table. You know what? It didn’t matter how much they strutted their stuff, eventually they all made it into the pot, and they all tasted the same.
The current rooster-in-chief will eventually make it into the pot too.
Obama’s foreign policy to ass kiss the muslim world is what causes him to fear calling them terrorists. He goes out of his way to refrain from calling their horrendous deeds “acts of terror.” In my neighborhood we called a “spade a spade.” It is what it is Mr. President. Grow some gonads and take the step to be a Commander-in-chief. Call a terrorist what he is a terrorist. Terrorists commit terrorists acts. See that wasn’t hard was it?
I never thought the possibility of living through two atomic bomb attacks in my lifetime was a reality. I do now.
Deep within the thicket behind Grumpa Joe’s Monet Vision a meeting of Wabbits from terror groups of every block discussed plans for taking out the Monet Vision. Last Spring they snuck into his yard and tasted the tulips and his prize lilies. He didn’t know what hit him. They forced him to install extensive Wabbit barrier over his lobelias, which made him work four times as hard to pull weeds. Not to mention, each time he discovered a snipped tulip bud or a clipped lily stem his blood pressure went through the roof. The group planned a new assault.
“We have to expand our numbers,” said Ali Bugbuny.
“Yes, but we must also train new recruits in the art of stem tasting,” exclaimed Sadr el Jac.
“What if we change the strategy from tasting to eating the flowers,” asked Yasir Flufytail?
“Hmmmn, not a bad idea” replied Ali.
The ideas flowed all evening. It was late into the night before the terror group finally agreed to a plan.
“It is agreed then, we will begin the campaign on the night of the full moon,” said Ali Bugbuny as he dismissed them, “be careful going home.”
The group hopped through the darkness keeping invisible as they moved through backyards. Usa-Bugbuny stayed under the front yard boxwoods. He sprinted through the open spaces between houses to the end of Brown Drive. Yasir Flufytail speed-hopped through the backyards to Charrington Drive, and Siwee el Waby dashed across the street between lights until he reached cover under a burning bush. One more sprint and I’ll be on Bramble Lane he thought. The others worked their way through the thicket westward to Ginger Lane. All of them swore to keep the plan a secret. They were to move about only under cover of darkness. Their plan would drive Grumpa Joe nuts.
“That was a most productive meeting Ali,” said Sadr el Jac.
“It is the best plan we’ve ever put together. I can’t wait to begin. I’ll see you again under the moon.”
Meanwhile, Grumpa Joe discussed world affairs and gardening over a glass of wine with his friend Al.
“Where have all the Wabbits gone,” asked Grumpa Joe?
“What do you mean, I have plenty of Wabbits in my yard,” said Al.
It is almost June, and I did not see a single Wabbit in the yard. My tulips were beautiful, and the lily’s are strong and tall.”
“I’ll send you some of my bunnies if you wish,” said Al.
“Please don’t.”
“I wonder if the coyote has been roaming through the neighborhood,” said Joe.
“That is a strong possibility Joe, they howl behind my house every night, but I still have lots of wabbits. It is late, I have to get home.” Al backed his car out of Grumpa Joe’s driveway just as Siwee el Waby made his dash across the street. The car lights swung out over him as he ducked under the Burning Bush.
Whew, that was close, he almost saw me. We have to live undercover until it is time to execute the plan. We want Grumpa Joe to believe he has beaten us.
The Wabbit world was abuzz for the remainder of the summer. Young wabbits went to school everyday, and momma wabbits raised more young ones to join them. Parents were careful to teach the youngsters not to go out while in daylight for fear of spoiling the ruse to make Grumpa Joe believe the wabbits were gone from his yard.
Ali Bugbuny recruited Aga and Bushr Bambi to join the plan. The army of invaders grew everyday. New recruits came well trained too.
“It is agreed, we will meet you and the Wabbit army in the invasion of the garden known as the Monet Vision during the full moon of July.”
“Peggy, have you noticed the big gaping hole in the yellow petunia patch?”
“No I haven’t, where?”
“Look there, between the potted geranium and the Coral Bells.”
“Oh, those plants are regenerating,” she said.
“I hope you are right, but it does bear watching.”
Grumpa Joe put the Monet Vision under surveillance. He took note of where the flowers were missing.
“These look cut off to me,” he told Peggy as he watered one night.
“It’s your imagination,” she said.
“We’ll see about that,” Joe replied.
Grumpa Joe sat on the patio sprinkling the flowers after a day of intense heat when he spotted a movement. His gaze froze on the spot. The sun had gone down and only the grey light of dusk remained. He saw a movement at the far corner of the yard. Yep, it’s a Wabbit he thought. I’ll wait to see where he goes.
Aga Bambi sat almost motionless. Only his mouth and nose moved as he chewed on some fresh grass. He couldn’t wait until total darkness as the plan called for. He had to eat something.
Aga sprinted through the Monet Vision into the wetland to the safety of his hutch. Inside the mass of twisted brambles he came face to face with Ali, Sadr, and Yasir. They sat in the darkness waiting for him. Sadr hopped to the entrance and blocked it off, Yasir moved to Aga’s side. Aga faced Ali in the center of a triangle of Wabbits. His escape route blocked, he had no choice but to face the music.
Ali put his nose up against Aga’s and began a Drill Sargent’s tirade.
“You dumb long-ear clown you ruined the plan, what were you thinking?”
“I’m sorry Ali, I was hungry and those Petunias looked so good. Besides, wasn’t that the plan?”
“The plan was to do it in the dark not broad daylight. Did they look and taste good enough to break cover?”
“I was careful, no one saw me.”
“Watch this.” Ali popped a DVD into his command computer. “These were taken this afternoon you dummy.”
The four of them watched as Aga relished a dozen soft-yellow Petunia blossoms before he moved to the deep purple ones. Aga dropped his head and eyes in guilt. The video clearly showed him violating the order.
“As punishment for disobeying an order you are banished from the Cell.”
“Where am I going,” asked Aga?
“To the land of native wildflowers where you will no longer enjoy the juicy and tender fruit of home gardens. Take him away boys.”
Sadr grabbed him by the back of the neck, and Yasir by the fluffy tail. They dragged him off to Prairie Park.
“Okay Yasir, on the count of three.”
They swung him back and forth, and on three they let go of him. Aga went sailing through the air and landed deep in the tall grass.
Ali sat by himself in Aga’s hutch thinking for a long time. His mind raced through counter measure possibilities. After what seemed like hours an idea came to him. He finally hopped out of the hutch into the darkness of the wetland with only the fireflies lighting the night sky.
“I have to gather the cell and discuss the new plan.”
Today is opening day of a new chapter in the Wabbit War. Last year (2010), Grumpa Joe (GJ) battled the Wabbits, and by late August they disappeared from the garden. However, GJ uncovered large amounts of evidence to suggest the Wabbits will return again soon. Throughout the winter there has been an abundance of snow, and the level of Wabbit tracks in the snow was telling. In addition, early this spring GJ uncovered evidence that the Wabbits devastated his prize Viburnum shrub by clipping all the lower stems, and leaving the naked center branch looking like a torch. Piles of Wabbit scat encircle the Viburnum.
The tulips, a Wabbit favorite, are just beginning to open. Grumpa Joe sits at the window awaiting the first Wabbit attack hoping to prevent needless tulip decapitations.
Late last summer, a new enemy joined the Wabbit Wars; Cirsium arvense(Canadian thistle). This new enemy employs radical terrorist techniques. He attacks by popping up in the middle of a dense lawn or flower bed. By the time he is sighted he has sent combatant runners spreading around the yard to establish more sleeper cells. The mower is one of the primary forces GJ used to combat them in the lawn. The whirling blade whacks the Cirsium; wounding, but also infuriating him. The warrior returns stronger than before. During his recovery he dispatches several young roots burrowing underground to establish new cells. Within a week, the cells begin to pop up along a line extending from the wounded warrior.
In the flower beds, the Cirsium arvense terrorists work under cover of foliage to grow and strengthen. By the time GJ spies evidence of their presence, they are fully established and towering over the flowers held hostage to hide their activity. They send copious numbers of sleeper cells running in many directions. They sleep underground until ready to attack then spring up everywhere within ten feet of origin.
Several times, GJ attacked them with the digger tool, and even a spade. Pulling out runners, and following them to new cells. Often, he pulled up two feet of roots with green shoots that had sprouted along the runner. If a single small piece of the root breaks off during removal, it survives to become a new sleeper cell. The Cirsium reestablishes itself, and within a week new sleeper cells are terrorizing the flower bed.
Grumpa Joe attended a late fall conference of Master Gardener Generals to discuss the Cirsium terrorists. The generals instructed GJ to rid the Cirsium arvense with the dreaded garden nemesis; Roundup. In the early spring, GJ would have to drench the fresh young shoots with this chemical killer of broad leaf vegetation. The chemical works by absorbing into the foliage and traveling into the root system.
This afternoon at 13:00 hours, Grumpa Joe dressed in full chemical battle garb. He loaded his sprayer with the prescribed ratio of concentrate and water. He pumped the tank sixty times to pressurize the nozzle, and forged into battle. By 14:30 hours all visible Cirsium terrorists were drenched in chemical.
By 13:00 hours tomorrow, Grumpa Joe will know if his attack affected the Cirsium army. He will sorrow over the many innocent garden plants he has killed. What he will not know is this; has he merely sent the Cirsium arvense Terrorists underground to form new sleeper cells?
