What’s so cute about those little, fluffy cottontails?

Isee the rabbits are back in the garden, a sure sign that winter is coming. This time I’ve promised myself not to get all Elmer Fuddish over the annual invasion. I recognize one of the big-eared galoots from past years, so I’m not sure it’s a promise I can keep.

This particular rabbit knows me so well it could finish my sentences. Supposing it knows any four-letter words, that is.

For several years now a gang of eastern cottontail rabbits has been spending their winters in our garden, nesting in the evergreen shrubs. It didn’t bother me too much at first. Our garden has pests — voles, skunks, squirrels — the way Ottawa has shawarma restaurants. There used to be a fox in the neighbourhood but I heard it bought a condo in LeBreton Flats.

“What’s one more nuisance to contend with,” I said when the rabbits first turned up. As a consequence, I now pay the HRT, or harmonized rabbit tax, every spring. That’s the cost of replacing the shrubs they nibble while living in our garden guest room.

But last winter, the fluffy devils outdid themselves. They chewed the needles on a weeping spruce so savagely it now looks like a lollipop. They also ate the bark off a young lilac tree. It survived, barely, but the dwarf lilac they feasted on didn’t make it.

I once ran outside in my pyjamas to shoo a pair of rabbits who were dining on a carpet spruce. This happened in February, and pretty much paints the picture of my interaction with these Thumpers of the suburbs.

I’ve also been known to patrol the backyard, shouting at the rabbits: “Hey, you missed the kale! Don’t forget the kale. Make yourself a trendy salad! I’ll bring out a bottle of wine!”

As you can tell, my home life is one of joyous fulfilment.

There’s an upside to the bunny peril. Some nights, I stare out the kitchen window as the rabbits cavort in the moonlight. Always makes me smile.

What I would really like is to find foster homes for the rabbits. They could write a letter every few months, enclosing photos, to let me know how they’re getting along. I’m willing to pay for their upkeep, if they live elsewhere. I’ve been told this isn’t one of my brighter schemes.

By now, I know what I’m up against. The eastern cottontail is small, weighing a little over a kilogram when fully grown, but its reproductive skills are awesome. Females typically produce three litters a year, with an average size of five kits. A mating pair could produce 350,000 offspring in five years, if no rabbits died. Fortunately, only two in 10 live beyond one year. They are devoured by owls, coyotes and hawks — few of which roam in suburban Nepean.

Every fall, I head to the hardware store to buy rolls of plastic netting and burlap. I wrap each plant like a baby in swaddling clothes. But the rabbits tend to get under the netting and eat their fill, no matter how well I secure the netting to the ground.

I’m thinking about uprooting the shrubs, and putting in a layer of $20 bills instead. The bills are a pleasing green in colour and the rabbits could use the cash for comfy bedding. Overall, I’d save money.

I’ve read about a spray repellent that you can make at home by mixing whole egg solids, castor oil, vinegar, fish oil and other pungent ingredients. It sounds like a menu at a vegan restaurant, but the harmless concoction apparently gives off such a powerful stink that the rabbits instantly move down the street.

This revolting mixture might work for some people, but not for me. If it smells that bad, how can I mix it up without producing a sort of chemical warfare in the kitchen?

No way I’m giving up the fight. Now I’m thinking about importing a giant rabbit, an actual British breed, after reading about the heroics of Toby in The Times of London.

Toby is more than two feet long and weighs almost 4.5 kilograms — that’s an XXL bunny. When burglars broke into a house in Plymouth, Toby thumped the floor to alert his owners, who were asleep upstairs. Terrified by the sight of this nightmarish rabbit, the burglars fled, leaving behind most of their loot.

That’s what I need — a hellacious hare like Toby to scare the cuteness out of the cottontails.