Elegy in a country backyard

James Clements
Published: July 20, 2008

Residents of West Street were dismayed last week to see the body of one of their own lying lifeless in the road. Sure that body was covered with fur, but it was a tragedy nevertheless.

“Harvey,” as he/she had come to be known, was more than your garden variety rabbit, but was instead a symbol of longevity within a constantly threatened community.

Harvey’s extra large size was possibly the result of an undiagnosed thyroid condition, but more likely attributable to the fleetness of his/her lucky feet, a hyperdeveloped sense of wile, or his voracious appetite for local gardens.

The body was first discovered lying in the road, apparently the victim of a hit-and-run accident. There were no skid marks, and as the incident most likely occurred in the overnight or early morning hours, it’s possible the driver never saw Harvey. The body was rediscovered when it was dragged and deposited in this author’s backyard by a neighbor’s cat.

Harvey was laid to rest without fanfare, but his/her passing should be noted not only as a warning for drivers to slow down and be more vigilant, but also because of the competing feelings such a tragedy conjures in the hearts of any backyard gardener.

As I pulled my snow shovel out of the garage and readied a black garbage bag, I could hear the oratory of the stoic Brutus and the loyalist Marc Antony from William Shakespeare’s Julius Caeser competing for my sympathies.

First, it was gardener Brutus sitting on my left shoulder, who spoke:

Gardeners, countrymen and lovers of lettuce! hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear ...

If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Harvey’s, to him I say, that Brutus’ love to Harvey was no less than his. If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Harvey, this is my answer: Not that I loved Harvey less, but that I loved Romane more. ...

As Harvey loved my garden, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him: but, as he was ambitious, I slew him. There are tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honor for his valor; and death for his ambition. ...

Who is here so vile that will not love his garden? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.

At which point, as if on cue, Marc Antony showed up:

Friends, Gardeners, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Harvey, not to praise him; the evil that rabbits do lives after them, the good is oft interred with their bones. So let it be with Harvey ...

The noble Brutus hath told you Harvey was ambitious: If it were so, it was a grievous fault, and grievously hath Harvey answered it ...

He was my friend, faithful and just to me: But Brutus says he was ambitious; and Brutus is an honourable man….

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, but here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love Harvey once, not without cause:

What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?

O judgement! thou art fled to brutish beasts,

And men have lost their reason…. bear with me; my heart is in the “coffin” there with Harvey, and I must pause till it come back to me.

I’m not sure when those cute, furry bunnies we love as kids turn into the vegetable-stealing vagabonds we abhor as gardeners, but for one brief moment in my backyard last week, both sides of their dual nature were on display at once in the lifeless body of a remarkable rabbit.

RIP, Harvey.

James Clements is a Culpeper resident and independent columnist who appears each Monday. E-mail