The Rabbit Reckoning ~ A Study in Coexistence
OPENING AUTHORITY
I'm a wildlife biologist turned urban farmer, documenting the collapse of human-wildlife boundaries in Los Angeles. Tonight, using infrared cameras and seismic sensors, I'm tracking 47 rabbits moving through my quarter-acre garden in Silver Lake—part of a population that's increased 3,000% since COVID lockdowns ended human interference.
My grandmother would have shot them. My neighbors want me to fence them out. But I'm testing something else: What if we designed gardens that factor in wildlife as collaborators, not pests?
Driving question: As urban sprawl forces wildlife into human spaces, can we develop agricultural systems that include rather than exclude native species?
TRIPLE BRAID
Thread A: Present Investigation
- Tracking rabbit movement patterns
- Documenting crop damage/benefit analysis
- Meeting with city wildlife officials
- The underground discovery
Thread B: Research
- Urban rabbit population explosion (2020-2024)
- Coevolution of gardens and wildlife
- Indigenous food forest practices
- Economic impact of wildlife on urban agriculture
Thread C: Personal History
- Grandmother's war against rabbits (1960s Iowa)
- Your childhood pet rabbit revealing garden intelligence
- Finding the warren beneath your house
- Mother's breakdown over destroyed garden
SCENE 1: The Night Count
August 15, 2024, 11:47 PM
Through the infrared scope, I count them: 47 cottontails in 1,200 square feet. They move in patterns—three scouts, then families, then solitary elders. They're not random. They're organized.
"That's impossible," Dr. Sarah Chen says through my earpiece. She's monitoring from UCLA's Urban Wildlife Lab. "Rabbits don't coordinate at that scale."
But they do. The scouts test new plants first. If they don't get sick, others follow. They take 30% from each plant—never enough to kill it. They're farming.
My seismic sensors show something else: vibrations beneath the garden. Not just surface feeding. There's activity three feet down.
SCENE 2: The War History
Flashback: Grandmother's farm, Iowa, 1962
"Rabbits are vermin," Grandma Rose declared, loading her .22. "They'll destroy everything."
That summer, she killed 200 rabbits. Hung them on the fence as warning. But more came. Always more.
By 1965, she'd tried:
- Poison (killed her dog)
- Traps (caught neighbor's cat)
- Fencing (they dug under)
- Dogs (rabbits learned their patterns)
"It's us or them," she said, spending $5,000 on commercial barriers.
The rabbits found one gap. One. Destroyed her entire Victory Garden in three nights.
She never gardened again.
SCENE 3: The Underground Discovery
August 20, 2024, using ground-penetrating radar
The warren is massive. Not just tunnels—architecture. Chambers at different depths, ventilation shafts, even what appears to be waste management areas directing fertilizer to specific plants.
"They're not destroying your garden," Sarah says, reviewing the data. "They're managing it. Look—nitrogen levels are 400% higher near warren entrances."
The rabbits are processing plant matter underground, creating concentrated fertilizer. Plants near warren entrances grow 30% larger than those in rabbit-free zones.
I map the tunnel system: It extends under six properties, connecting gardens throughout the neighborhood. The rabbits have built an underground agricultural network.
SCENE 4: City Wildlife Meeting
City Hall, August 25, 2024
"We need to authorize culling," Councilman Martinez says. "Rabbit complaints are up 500%."
I present my data: Rabbits increase garden productivity when properly managed. They're not pests—they're landscape engineers.
"Tell that to my constituents with destroyed lawns."
"Lawns are monocultures. Gardens with diversity show different patterns. The rabbits are selective—they maintain beneficial plants, remove invasive species."
Animal Control director Lisa Park interjects: "We can't kill them anyway. Public opposition is too strong. We need coexistence strategies."
Research: The Population Explosion
COVID lockdowns reduced human activity by 70%. Predator populations (coyotes, hawks) decreased due to reduced road kill food sources. Rabbits, freed from both human interference and predation, experienced exponential growth.
UCLA's census:
- 2019: 10,000 urban rabbits
- 2020: 35,000
- 2021: 120,000
- 2024: 400,000
They're not going away. Los Angeles has become a rabbit city.
But studies from Berlin, which has 10,000 urban rabbits, show coexistence is possible. German gardens incorporate "rabbit zones"—sacrificial plants that protect valuable crops.
SCENE 5: The Childhood Memory
Flashback: 1995, childhood home
My pet rabbit, Thump, escaped into Mom's garden. Instead of destroying it, he did something strange—he ate only the diseased plants.
"He's selecting," Mom observed. "Taking out the weak ones."
Within a month, her garden was healthier. Thump had removed aphid-infected leaves, pruned overgrowth, even distributed seeds through his droppings.
"Maybe we don't understand rabbits," she said.
Then neighbors complained. City ordinance: no livestock. Thump went to a farm. Mom's garden, without its rabbit gardener, succumbed to aphids within weeks.
SCENE 6: The Indigenous Consultation
Meeting with Tongva elder Julia Bogany, September 2024
"Rabbits were here first," she says. "My ancestors didn't fight them. We gardened with them."
She explains: Plant four times what you need. One part for you, one for rabbits, one for birds, one for insects. The excess ensures balance.
"European agriculture is about exclusion—fences, poisons, ownership. Indigenous agriculture is about inclusion—everything eats, everything contributes."
She shows me traditional plants: rabbit tobacco (they avoid it), sacred datura (toxic to them), food plants positioned to guide rabbit movement.
"You create paths for them. They'll follow paths rather than forge new ones. Design your garden like a river—direct the flow."
SCENE 7: Damage Assessment
September harvest data:
- Lettuce: 70% loss (but self-seeded from rabbit droppings)
- Tomatoes: 0% loss (rabbits avoid nightshades)
- Beans: 40% loss (but nitrogen fixed in soil increased yield in remaining plants)
- Herbs: 10% loss (selective pruning improved growth)
- Overall yield: Down 15%
- Overall soil health: Up 300%
The rabbits aren't random. They're selective harvesters, taking what they need while improving soil conditions for future growth.
SCENE 8: The Economic Argument
Urban Farm Coalition meeting, October 2024
"I spend $500 monthly on rabbit barriers," complains Tom from Echo Park Gardens. "It's unsustainable."
But Jennifer from Altadena shows different numbers: "I stopped fighting them. Yes, I lose 20% of crops. But I save $400 on fertilizer, $200 on pest control. The rabbits manage both."
The economic models show:
- Traditional exclusion: $6,000 annually per acre
- Coexistence management: $1,500 annually per acre
- Increased soil health value: $3,000 per acre
"We're spending billions fighting nature," I argue. "What if we spent millions working with it?"
SCENE 9: The Mother's Garden
November 2024, Mom's house, Pasadena
Mom hasn't gardened since 2019, when rabbits destroyed her prized heirloom tomatoes. The space is barren, covered in wood chips.
"I can't do it again," she says. "Forty years of gardening, gone in one season."
I show her my data. The rabbits weren't destroying—they were trying to convert her monoculture tomato garden into polyculture.
"Plant what they want alongside what you want," I suggest. "Clover for them, tomatoes for you. They'll take the clover, leave the tomatoes."
She's skeptical but tries. Within weeks, rabbits swarm the clover, ignore the tomatoes. By December, she has the best tomato yield in years—the clover fixed nitrogen, the rabbit droppings provided fertilizer.
"They're gardening with me," she realizes.
SCENE 10: The Warren Exploration
December 2024, micro-camera investigation
I send a fiber-optic camera into the warren. What I find changes everything.
The rabbits have created underground mushroom gardens. They're cultivating fungi on collected plant matter, creating a controlled decomposition system. The mycorrhizal networks connect to my garden plants above.
They're not just eating my garden. They're expanding it underground, creating a multi-level agricultural system.
Dr. Chen is speechless: "This is agriculture. They're farming."
Research: Rabbit Intelligence
Recent studies show rabbits possess:
- Spatial memory mapping covering 10 acres
- Social learning (teaching offspring safe plants)
- Agricultural behavior (selective harvesting for regeneration)
- Mathematical ability (counting up to 12)
They're not pests. They're indigenous farmers displaced by human agriculture, trying to coexist with our imposed systems.
The Revelation
January 2025, full moon observation
Under moonlight, the pattern becomes clear. The rabbits move in spirals, following mycorrhizal networks underground. They're not random—they're following the fungal highways that connect plants.
Each rabbit family tends specific sections. They maintain the underground fungi, distribute spores, process organic matter. In return, the fungi guide them to the best feeding areas.
It's mutualism. The garden isn't mine or theirs. It's a collaboration between plants, fungi, rabbits, and humans.
ENDING TURN
February 2025, Garden at dawn
Forty-seven rabbits move through my garden. I no longer count damage. I count contributions: seed dispersal, soil aeration, fertilizer deposits, pruning services.
My yield is up 40% from last year. Not despite the rabbits—because of them.
The city is watching. If this works, Los Angeles might become the first city to officially incorporate wildlife into urban agricultural planning. Coexistence gardens. Multispecies farms.
My grandmother would hate this. But she never saw what I see: rabbits and humans growing food together, neither dominant, both essential.
Under the moon, in the garden that is no longer solely mine, the rabbits continue their ancient work. They take what they need—about 30%, the same percentage indigenous peoples say should be shared with wildlife.
In return, they give what I couldn't create alone: living soil, fungal networks, seed dispersal, natural pruning, and the humbling reminder that agriculture existed for millions of years before humans, and will exist long after.
The rabbits watch me watching them. We've reached an understanding. The garden belongs to whoever tends it. And we all tend it, above and below, in moonlight and in darkness, in the eternal negotiation between hunger and growth.
The Rabbit Reckoning: A Study in Coexistence
OPENING AUTHORITY
I'm a wildlife biologist turned urban farmer, documenting the collapse of human-wildlife boundaries in Los Angeles. Tonight, using infrared cameras and seismic sensors, I'm tracking 47 rabbits moving through my quarter-acre garden in Silver Lake—part of a population that's increased 3,000% since COVID lockdowns ended human interference.
My grandmother would have shot them. My neighbors want me to fence them out. But I'm testing something else: What if we designed gardens that factor in wildlife as collaborators, not pests?
Driving question: As urban sprawl forces wildlife into human spaces, can we develop agricultural systems that include rather than exclude native species?
TRIPLE BRAID
Thread A: Present Investigation
- Tracking rabbit movement patterns
- Documenting crop damage/benefit analysis
- Meeting with city wildlife officials
- The underground discovery
Thread B: Research
- Urban rabbit population explosion (2020-2024)
- Coevolution of gardens and wildlife
- Indigenous food forest practices
- Economic impact of wildlife on urban agriculture
Thread C: Personal History
- Grandmother's war against rabbits (1960s Iowa)
- Your childhood pet rabbit revealing garden intelligence
- Finding the warren beneath your house
- Mother's breakdown over destroyed garden
SCENE 1: The Night Count
August 15, 2024, 11:47 PM
Through the infrared scope, I count them: 47 cottontails in 1,200 square feet. They move in patterns—three scouts, then families, then solitary elders. They're not random. They're organized.
"That's impossible," Dr. Sarah Chen says through my earpiece. She's monitoring from UCLA's Urban Wildlife Lab. "Rabbits don't coordinate at that scale."
But they do. The scouts test new plants first. If they don't get sick, others follow. They take 30% from each plant—never enough to kill it. They're farming.
My seismic sensors show something else: vibrations beneath the garden. Not just surface feeding. There's activity three feet down.
SCENE 2: The War History
Flashback: Grandmother's farm, Iowa, 1962
"Rabbits are vermin," Grandma Rose declared, loading her .22. "They'll destroy everything."
That summer, she killed 200 rabbits. Hung them on the fence as warning. But more came. Always more.
By 1965, she'd tried:
- Poison (killed her dog)
- Traps (caught neighbor's cat)
- Fencing (they dug under)
- Dogs (rabbits learned their patterns)
- Flooding warrens (they moved to barn)
- Smoke bombs (nearly burned the corn field)
"It's us or them," she said, spending $5,000 on commercial barriers.
The rabbits found one gap. One. Destroyed her entire Victory Garden in three nights.
She never gardened again. Sold the farm in 1967, moved to a condo in Des Moines. "Let someone else fight them," she said. But I heard her crying the night she signed the papers. Sixty years later, I understand: the rabbits didn't defeat her garden. They defeated her worldview that humans could control nature.
SCENE 3: The Underground Discovery
August 20, 2024, using ground-penetrating radar
The warren is massive. Not just tunnels—architecture. Chambers at different depths, ventilation shafts, even what appears to be waste management areas directing fertilizer to specific plants.
"They're not destroying your garden," Sarah says, reviewing the data. "They're managing it. Look—nitrogen levels are 400% higher near warren entrances."
The rabbits are processing plant matter underground, creating concentrated fertilizer. Plants near warren entrances grow 30% larger than those in rabbit-free zones.
I map the tunnel system: It extends under six properties, connecting gardens throughout the neighborhood. The rabbits have built an underground agricultural network.
We inject harmless dye into one entrance. It appears in gardens three blocks away. The rabbits have connected the entire neighborhood's food system underground.
SCENE 4: City Wildlife Meeting
City Hall, August 25, 2024
"We need to authorize culling," Councilman Martinez says. "Rabbit complaints are up 500%."
I present my data: Rabbits increase garden productivity when properly managed. They're not pests—they're landscape engineers.
"Tell that to my constituents with destroyed lawns."
"Lawns are monocultures. Gardens with diversity show different patterns. The rabbits are selective—they maintain beneficial plants, remove invasive species."
Animal Control director Lisa Park interjects: "We can't kill them anyway. Public opposition is too strong. We need coexistence strategies."
A woman stands in the back: "I'm Rebecca Torres, health department. What about disease?"
The room tenses. This is the real fear—not destroyed gardens, but tularemia, plague, rabies.
"Disease rates in urban rabbits are lower than in rural populations," I respond. "Better nutrition, less stress. Of 500 tested, zero carried transmissible diseases."
SCENE 5: Detailed Behavior Documentation
September 2024, 200 hours of observation
The rabbits follow strict patterns:
- 4:30 AM: Scouts emerge, test new growth
- 5:00 AM: Juveniles feed on approved plants
- 5:30 AM: Adults graze, always leaving 70% intact
- 6:00 AM: Return to warrens before human activity
They have designated latrine areas—always downhill from food sources, always near plants that benefit from high nitrogen. They're managing nutrient flow.
Most remarkably: They practice rotation. Section A on Monday, Section B on Tuesday. By the time they return to Section A, it's regrown. They're not consuming—they're harvesting sustainably.
I document their plant preferences:
- Clover: 100% consumption (but they spread seeds)
- Lettuce: 30% (only outer leaves)
- Kale: 0% (too bitter)
- Carrots: Tops only (roots left intact)
- Beans: 40% (but increased nitrogen fixation compensates)
Research: The Population Explosion
COVID lockdowns reduced human activity by 70%. Predator populations (coyotes, hawks) decreased due to reduced road kill food sources. Rabbits, freed from both human interference and predation, experienced exponential growth.
UCLA's census:
- 2019: 10,000 urban rabbits
- 2020: 35,000
- 2021: 120,000
- 2024: 400,000
They're not going away. Los Angeles has become a rabbit city.
But studies from Berlin, which has 10,000 urban rabbits, show coexistence is possible. German gardens incorporate "rabbit zones"—sacrificial plants that protect valuable crops.
Tokyo goes further: rabbit-integrated rooftop gardens where droppings are automatically collected for fertilizer. Yield is up 50% compared to rabbit-free gardens.
SCENE 6: The Childhood Memory
Flashback: 1995, childhood home
My pet rabbit, Thump, escaped into Mom's garden. Instead of destroying it, he did something strange—he ate only the diseased plants.
"He's selecting," Mom observed. "Taking out the weak ones."
Within a month, her garden was healthier. Thump had removed aphid-infected leaves, pruned overgrowth, even distributed seeds through his droppings.
"Maybe we don't understand rabbits," she said.
Then neighbors complained. City ordinance: no livestock. Thump went to a farm. Mom's garden, without its rabbit gardener, succumbed to aphids within weeks.
Twenty-nine years later, I realize Thump was demonstrating what indigenous peoples always knew: animals and plants coevolved. Separating them breaks both.
SCENE 7: Neighbor Conflicts
October 2024, Block meeting
"Your experiment is destroying property values," shouts Marcus from two houses down. His lawn is 50% rabbit damage.
"My property value increased," counters Jennifer. "Urban farm designation, tax breaks, plus I'm selling rabbit-fertilized produce for triple normal price."
The neighborhood is divided:
- Traditional landscapers: Want complete elimination
- Urban farmers: Seeing benefits
- Families: Kids love the rabbits
- Elderly: Concerned about disease
"What if we zoned?" I propose. "Rabbit-free zones for those who want them, integrated zones for those who don't."
"How do you tell rabbits about zones?" Marcus asks sarcastically.
"Plants. Barrier plants they won't cross, attractant plants that draw them. We design the flow."
SCENE 8: The Indigenous Consultation
Meeting with Tongva elder Julia Bogany, September 2024
"Rabbits were here first," she says. "My ancestors didn't fight them. We gardened with them."
She explains: Plant four times what you need. One part for you, one for rabbits, one for birds, one for insects. The excess ensures balance.
"European agriculture is about exclusion—fences, poisons, ownership. Indigenous agriculture is about inclusion—everything eats, everything contributes."
She shows me traditional plants: rabbit tobacco (they avoid it), sacred datura (toxic to them), food plants positioned to guide rabbit movement.
"You create paths for them. They'll follow paths rather than forge new ones. Design your garden like a river—direct the flow."
We plant a demonstration garden using her design. Within two weeks, rabbits follow the designated paths, feed in designated zones, avoid protected areas completely.
SCENE 9: Predator Return
November 2024, Hawks arrive
The red-tailed hawks return, drawn by rabbit abundance. The neighborhood panics—dead rabbits on lawns, blood on sidewalks.
"This is what you wanted," Marcus says, pointing to a half-eaten rabbit.
But within weeks, the system balances. Hawks take 10-15% of rabbits, mostly sick or elderly. Rabbit behavior changes—more cautious, less destructive. They stay closer to cover, spend less time in open gardens.
The hawks also take rats, mice, and pigeons. Overall pest problems decrease 60%.
"It's ecology," I explain at another block meeting. "Predators don't eliminate prey. They manage it."
SCENE 10: Health Department Investigation
December 2024, Official inspection
Rebecca Torres returns with a team. They trap 50 rabbits, test for everything: tularemia, plague, rabies, parasites.
Results: Cleaner than expected. Urban diet and reduced stress mean healthier rabbits. One concern: E. coli in droppings.
"But levels are lower than dog parks," she admits. "If we're not closing dog parks..."
She recommends basic hygiene: wash vegetables, compost droppings for 90 days before use, keep rabbits away from children's play areas.
"We can't eliminate them anyway," she concludes. "Better to manage coexistence safely."
SCENE 11: Climate Impact
January 2025, UCLA Climate Lab
Dr. Michael Rodriguez models rabbit populations under climate change scenarios:
- 2°C warming: Rabbit range expands 30% north
- 3°C warming: Two breeding seasons become three
- 4°C warming: Population doubles every 18 months
"They're climate change winners," he says. "Adaptable, fast-breeding, heat-tolerant. Every city will face this."
The choice: Start adapting now, or face ecological collapse later when populations become unmanageable.
"Los Angeles could model coexistence for the world," he suggests.
SCENE 12: Agricultural System Mapping
February 2025, Complete analysis
After six months, the rabbit-garden system reveals itself:
Above ground:
- Rabbits prune 30% of growth (optimal for plant health)
- Selective grazing removes diseased plants
- Seed dispersal increases plant diversity 400%
- Trampling creates beneficial soil compaction
Below ground:
- Warren ventilation aerates soil
- Latrines create fertilizer hotspots
- Tunnels improve water infiltration
- Fungal gardens increase mycorrhizal networks
Economic impact:
- Reduced fertilizer costs: $500/year
- Reduced pesticide costs: $300/year
- Increased yield from soil health: $1,200/year
- Loss from rabbit damage: $600/year
- Net benefit: $1,400/year
SCENE 13: The Mother's Garden
November 2024, Mom's house, Pasadena
Mom hasn't gardened since 2019, when rabbits destroyed her prized heirloom tomatoes. The space is barren, covered in wood chips.
"I can't do it again," she says. "Forty years of gardening, gone in one season."
I show her my data. The rabbits weren't destroying—they were trying to convert her monoculture tomato garden into polyculture.
"Plant what they want alongside what you want," I suggest. "Clover for them, tomatoes for you. They'll take the clover, leave the tomatoes."
She's skeptical but tries. Within weeks, rabbits swarm the clover, ignore the tomatoes. By December, she has the best tomato yield in years—the clover fixed nitrogen, the rabbit droppings provided fertilizer.
"They're gardening with me," she realizes. "Like Thump did, but I was too angry to see it."
She starts leaving water out for them. They stop digging in search of moisture. She plants their favorites at garden edges. They stop venturing to the center.
"It's like negotiating," she says. "Give a little, get a lot."
SCENE 14: Policy Development
March 2025, City Council Chambers
Los Angeles considers the "Urban Wildlife Integration Act":
- Recognizes wildlife as urban stakeholders
- Funds coexistence education
- Provides tax breaks for wildlife-friendly gardens
- Prohibits poisons in residential areas
- Creates wildlife corridors
"This is insane," argues developer Richard Stone. "We're prioritizing rabbits over humans."
"We're prioritizing ecosystem health," I counter. "Which benefits humans long-term."
The vote: 11-4 in favor. Los Angeles becomes the first U.S. city to officially integrate wildlife into urban planning.
Other cities watch. If this works, urban agriculture changes globally.
SCENE 15: The Complete Vision
April 2025, Presenting at Urban Agriculture Summit
I show the final data:
- 50 gardens now practicing coexistence
- Average yield up 30%
- Chemical inputs down 70%
- Biodiversity up 400%
- Mental health benefits: gardeners report less stress
"We've been thinking about it wrong," I conclude. "Gardens aren't human spaces invaded by wildlife. They're shared spaces we temporarily divided."
The audience—farmers, politicians, scientists—is split. Old-school agriculture representatives walk out. But young farmers lean in.
"How do we start?" asks a woman from Detroit.
"Stop fighting. Start observing. Learn the language of coexistence."
ENDING TURN
May 2025, Full moon, Garden
Forty-seven rabbits move through my garden. The same number as that first August night, but everything has changed.
I no longer see invasion. I see integration. The rabbits prune, fertilize, aerate, and plant. I provide structure, water, and protection. Together, we produce more food than either could alone.
The city is watching. Twenty more gardens have started coexistence trials. The health department published safety guidelines. Schools are teaching multispecies agriculture.
My grandmother would hate this. But she never saw what I see: rabbits and humans growing food together, neither dominant, both essential.
Under the moon, in the garden that is no longer solely mine, the rabbits continue their ancient work. They take what they need—about 30%, the same percentage indigenous peoples say should be shared with wildlife.
In return, they give what I couldn't create alone: living soil, fungal networks, seed dispersal, natural pruning, and the humbling reminder that agriculture existed for millions of years before humans, and will exist long after.
The underground passages connect more than gardens—they connect worldviews. The old view: humans control nature. The new: humans participate in nature.
Tonight, a young rabbit approaches closer than usual. We regard each other—two gardeners recognizing a colleague. Then it returns to work, and so do I.
The garden pulses beneath us, fungal networks carrying messages between plants, rabbit tunnels aerating soil, human hands guiding growth. We're all farming together now, in the moonlight, in the darkness, in the eternal negotiation between hunger and abundance.
My seismic sensors show the underground activity has spread to twelve blocks. The rabbits are teaching other gardens what they've learned here. The revolution is quiet, subterranean, unstoppable.
The moon sets. The rabbits retreat to their warrens. I retreat to my house. But the garden continues without us, growing in the darkness, proving that the best agriculture might be the kind that doesn't require our constant control.
Tomorrow, more neighbors will ask about coexistence. More cities will call for data. More rabbits will be born into a world where they're partners, not pests.
The reckoning isn't coming. It's here. And the rabbits—patient, persistent, practical—are teaching us to garden for a world where humans aren't the only species that matters.
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Final Word Count: 4,500
