Dan's Papers - August 8, 2008

Sitting on your deck on a late summer evening, you might wonder, "What are those big hard roaches flying into the door?" Or you might be oblivious to them - until you're at the beach the next day and someone says, "Last night I tried to get into my house and I was bombarded by these big, hard, flying roaches."

If this were a group of cityfolk, the discussion might end there, after a few "ewws" and "AHHHH!s." But if only one person had an iota of information, you'd find out that they were, in fact, June bugs, which is a nice name for big, hard, flying roaches.

People who live on the East End tend to be more aware of and knowledgable about their surroundings. But people who visit from the city (myself included for many years) have been conditioned week after week to shut down the senses. It's not cold and heartless to ignore unpleasantries - it's a matter of psychological and emotional survival. Living in the city, you have to ignore the smell of pesticide in a restaurant, the sight of garbage overflowing into the street, the deafening sound of a bus engine revving up.

Then you find yourself in the lovely Hamptons, where sensory selectivity takes over, much like selective memory. A blue sky, rolling waves, warm sun - that's okay. Biting flies, getting sandblasted by wind on the beach, rip tides - that happened today? We're all paying too much to be out here to notice anything but the idyllic.

But every now and then, we do take notice. This summer, about my 25th in the Hamptons, I've noticed rabbits.

We've never had rabbits on our property - although I've seen them out here. But for the last month, a rabbit has been frequenting the grounds. His name is "Everyday Close-up Bunny," because he's there every day and lets you get very close up. Everyday has become more brazen in his appearances, starting with dawn and dusk munching in the front yard near the privet, moving on to day-long grass-eating binges in the back yard - right out in the open. One day we neared him slowly, expecting him to run off. He didn't. He just stared at us with a large, anxious eye. We were intimidated - so much so that we backed off. He must be rabid, we thought, and may attack. He didn't. We can get about three feet away before he takes a few hops. Then he stops and stares again. Colleagues here at Dan's Papers have also noticed the rabbits - dozens at Atlantic Beach in Amagansett, plenty in Southampton, little ones in North Haven. Enough to make a call to East Hampton Natural Resources Director Larry Penny.

Yes, he concurred. There are a lot more rabbits this year. He feels that the reason is that there are fewer foxes because of the mange epidemic that hit in the '90s. The population never recovered. And since foxes are the main threat to rabbits (as are hawks and feral cats), the rabbits have been able to multiply like, well, rabbits.

In the ecosystem I call my yard, there's been another development. Several years ago I vowed to never use pesticides or other chemicals. As a result, my lawn is very healthy, but looks like hell - unless you don't mind crabgrass and dandelions, which I don't. In addition to the lawn being healthier for us, it draws lots of wildlife and grows lots of weeds. Rabbits, as it turns out, love dandelion greens. Very Hamptons. So Everyday munches to delirium on them and the grass. As a result, I swear we haven't had to mow the lawn in three weeks.

No chemicals + no foxes = rabbits eating dandelions and grass = less mowing.

Now for the other ecosystem equation: More acorns = more instances of Lyme disease.

Last year (and maybe even now) you may have noticed that it was painful to walk on your lawn in bare feet because of acorns, thousands of them. As it turns out, 2007 was what is called a mast year for acorns. On occasion, the oak trees produce a bumper crop, which sets off streams of reactions. The end of one tributary is a higher risk of contracting Lyme disease.

Last summer and fall, acorns were literally dropping from the sky like a hailstorm. Our property is surrounded by oak forest so just lying on the hammock put me or guests in danger of getting a good bonk (and I do not believe we have that sort of liability coverage on our homeowner's policy). At first it was amusing, but sure, it's all a lot of fun until someone loses an eye.

Then came the fall cleanup. The blanket of acorns was like a mulch of rocks. Raking them was very strenuous since they quickly embed in the soil. It was like dragging stones over sand. But there was no choice. You had to rake them or they'd take root and kill the lawn. The acorn situation had little upside. Sure, they provided a lot of food for the squirrels, which seem to have grown in tremendous numbers. Outside in the yard, I saw huge, fat scrambling squirrels, giddy-drunk from their over-indulgence of protein, like whacked-out Atkins dieters. These squirrels weren't burying acorns for the winter, they were having acorn orgies. I believe I saw two 12-pound males having a food fight.

Following their wanton display, there was another development: A lot of dead squirrels on the road last winter and spring. Their highwire antics can go awry as it is, but now there were added risks as fat squirrels, drunk on acorn protein, wobbled across LIPA lines. I'm sure there was more than one incident of 'chicken' on that one-lane aerial highway.

And now we come to Lyme disease. When there are a lot of acorns, deer linger in the oak forest eating them. While they're happily munching, the deer ticks hop on. The deer walk around our property, the ticks drop off, the rest is history.

The deer can't get into my backyard and I stay out of the woods. I think we're safe. Unless Everyday starts hanging out in the woods eating acorns or consorting with deer. Doubtful since our weed supply is endless, and rabbits don't eat acorns. So I'll relax on my hammock without feeling like Chicken Lickin', and let the rabbit mow the lawn. But I'll be very busy, noticing.