WAY out south-east of Rupanyup, a farmer, whom we shall call Elmer, is battling not only the elements of drought and flooding rains, but also a rabbit.
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This rabbit has been causing mayhem to Elmer's garden and lawns.
One morning last week Elmer was eating his porridge when through the kitchen window he spied the pesky varmint digging in his garden.
"I'll get you, you wotten wabbit," Elmer shouted as he ran to get his heritage-listed three-shot shotgun.
His friends have named it '10 foot' - not for the length of the barrel, but for the distance by which it usually misses its target.
Elmer ran out with '10 foot' and spied his target still munching on the lawn.
BOOM, missed, 10 foot to the left. BOOM, missed, unknown. Last shot BOOM, and that unmistakable thud of pellets hitting a solid object.
Elmer raised '10 foot' in triumph, but why is the pesky wabbit still wrunning and why has the six-month-old Toyota, parked 80 feet to the left, suddenly got small pellet holes in its door?
