Enslaved by Ducks by Bob Tarte

Author:Bob Tarte [Tarte, Bob]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781565123519
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2003-10-24T07:00:00+00:00

AT BINDER PARK ZOO in Battle Creek, the cereal-producing city where Linda’s mother lives, the children’s zoo area includes an expansive outdoor rabbit pen. Clumps of full-grown rabbits play together on the grass, groom one another, and stretch out side-by-side for a nap in the sun. In our many visits to the zoo, we never saw a single instance of discontent among the bunnies. They appeared inherently as well suited to social interactions as ducks. And Silver Marten Bertie and roly-poly Rollo seemed headed down the path of sibling bliss. They loved jumping in and out of an Easter basket together that Linda had set up on the floor of our porch or friskily chasing each other around the dining room and kitchen. They shared the same cage, eating out of the same bowl at the same time. They were closer than two peas in a pod, more gregarious than mushrooms on a log.

One night after Linda and I had just settled into bed, we heard a loud thump from the dining room. It was the sound of hormones kicking in. After two more contained explosions, we flicked on the light to find Bertie and Rollo clawing and biting each other with such intensity, they had skidded their cage several inches across the linoleum. Then, as abruptly as the aggression had begun, the pair reverted to a peaceful coexistence that carried through the following day. By nightfall, hostilities began anew. Soon the brothers couldn’t occupy a room together without uniting in a rolling ball of mayhem that left half-dollar-size patches of fur scattered across the floor and a musky wild-animal scent in the air. By then we had already purchased a second cage, ending our dreams of mutually sustaining rabbit buddies and replacing them with the burden of feuding family members that we had to sequester at all times. We had hoped that getting the brothers “fixed” would remedy the problem, but their territorialism was too deeply ingrained.

After dinner each night, Rollo got the run of the dining room and kitchen while Bertie investigated the nooks and crannies of the living room. Mornings, we reversed rooms and rabbits. Yet when both bunnies were confined to adjacent cages, they acted like the dearest friends on earth. Rollo would stick his nose through the bars and lovingly lick Bertie’s ear. If Rollo lay against the right side of his cage, Bertie would press his body against the left, letting fur and flesh mingle through the wires. As long as they didn’t share a common space, they were inseparable.

Back when we had first brought the bunnies home, I built a rectangular pen for them in the backyard by throwing up a run of fencing alongside the duck pen, and I use the words “throwing up” deliberately. My results looked just that professional. After the siblings became dysfunctional, I was forced to add yet another fence to divide the enclosure into separate territories for Messrs. Hatfield and McCoy.

“With this, my days of building pens

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