Mudpoo, Harry, Captain Pete and Gus live on a small farm in Bethanga. Their property is a mish-mash of long grass and broken down old deer fences, with views of the valley below. Gus, the Kombi van, was resting and looking rather forlorn, with grass sprouting up through his tyres. Every afternoon Captain Pete would rest in Gus’ front seat, with his feet up, reading the paper and not drive anywhere. Things were happening lazily in Bethanga, except for one thing!
Mudpoo and Harry were quietly sitting on a log on their favourite hill one evening, admiring the sunset, when Harry looked puzzled.
“Is that paddock moving, or is it my imagination?” asked a wide-eyed Harry.
“Moving . . . ?” replied Mudpoo, with his mouth agape.
“Is that paddock moving, or is it my imagination?” asked a wide-eyed Harry.
“Moving . . . ?” replied Mudpoo, with his mouth agape.
They strained their eyes and looked carefully.
“Rabbits, dozens of rabbits, there goes another one!” cried Mudpoo.
“And another and another and another,” said Harry trying to keep up.
“I’ve never seen so many; I guess we’ve had so much rain and hot weather it’s brought them all out?” gasped Mudpoo.
“We should tell Captain Pete. I wonder if he knows what to do?” asked Harry.
“They weren’t here yesterday, I’m sure. If we don’t do anything they’ll eat all of our grass and native flowers,” declared Mudpoo.
They both ran down to the house to see Captain Pete, who was busy fumbling and bustling about in his shed.
“Hmmm,” he said thoughtfully, “hundreds of rabbits hey?” he scratched his beard, “Yes I thought I’d seen a few more about than usual.”
“What do we do about them?” asked Mudpoo and Harry together.
“Hmmm . . . it’s a mystery,” said Captain Pete, again looking even more thoughtful. Mudpoo and Harry peered up at Captain Pete looking hopefully for an answer.
“That’s it, I’ve got it!” yelled Captain Pete excitedly, “It’s easy.”
“What’s easy?” replied Mudpoo and Harry together.
“We need to invent something to catch the rabbits and move them on to somewhere else where they won’t eat our plants. I’ll start on it straight away!”
Captain Pete started to draw some interesting diagrams on a scrap piece of paper. Harry and Mudpoo looked on. They liked rabbits, but there were way too many and something had to be done.
“Pulleys and wheels, some ropes and poles and we’ll need lots of carrots, yes I’d say that ought to do it!” exclaimed an excited Captain Pete.
“I’ve got all the things I need right here, except the carrots. The two of you can go down to the Bethanga General Store and get me as many carrots as you can. Take the wheelbarrow and fill it up, that ought to be enough.”
Captain Pete was so busy hammering and cutting, he didn’t notice Mudpoo and Harry leave.
The Bethanga General Store was just down the road and it was one of those old shops that sold a bit of everything; they had hula-hoops and colourful bubblegum, mouse traps and ice creams, newspapers and chocolate . . . Mudpoo knew he’d probably find all the carrots that Captain Pete needed.
“That’s rather a lot of carrots,” said Richard, the puzzled store keeper.
“It’s for the rabbits,” replied Mudpoo and Harry together.
“Captain Pete is building a giant rabbit trap,” boasted Mudpoo, proudly.
“Shooting is the best thing for rabbits,” said an old farmer who was in the store, picking up supplies and listening to their conversation. “Bang, dead, gone!” he declared with a grin.
“Or poison; some people poison rabbits, but they die rather slowly,” another person in the shop said, sadly.
Mudpoo and Harry shuddered and thanked the store keeper for the carrots.
“You know,” said the farmer thoughtfully, “rabbits are not native to Australia; they kill our native plant species, cause soil erosion and drive native animals out of their homes. Rabbits destroy the environment!”
“Did you know,” he continued, “in 1859, 24 European rabbits were released in Australia and only 67 years later, there were about 10 billion of them? Rabbits can give birth to up to five litters each year. I once heard a saying; ‘three rabbits, three years, three million rabbits!’”
The old farmer frowned grimly. “Anyone who can solve Australia’s European rabbit problem would be declared an Aussie hero.”
“Gosh,” said Mudpoo, “we’d better get home quickly, before they take over our entire farm.”
“How did he get time to count them?” shrugged Harry as they hurried home with a wheelbarrow-full of carrots.
“I hope Captain Pete’s invention works, or we’ll soon have rabbits living in the house with us!” gasped Mudpoo. Harry looked very concerned.
