The closest company- human company, that is, are the Russians next door, on the east side of the farm road. That probably accounts for my tendency to talk to the radio, or to the critters.

I had been talking back to the radio about the jobs numbers for June released by the Bureau of Labor Statistics. The topline numbers were better than expected, according to the bright commentators on National Public Radio, with 195,000 new jobs in the month, not including mine.

According to the commentators, experts had been anticipating only 165,000, and this indicates the continuation of a painfully slow economic recovery.

I would have just absorbed the information, but being between periods of employment- I hope- the numbers intrigued me. A little poking on the computer revealed the real deal. It was more tricks with numbers.

Part of the disappointment with the Administration is the growing realization that everything they say starts with some prevarication. For example, on this one, it is the fact that it was part-time labor that soared by 360,000 to a total of just over 28 million Americans in a situation like mine. Part time workers.

Full Time jobs? Not so good. Down by more than a quarter million. So far, with half the calendar year in the bag, 130,000 full time position have been created, a little less than what is needed stay even. That has been offset by the creation of more than a half million part time positions.

“Didn’t you expect business to adjust to the new definition of how many hours of work it takes to be entitled to health care? Of course people are being shifted to part time work to avoid the new mandates!” I growled in the direction of the radio. Then I realized I have been talking to a variety of animate and inanimate things, and shut my mouth in embarrassment.

The radio moved on to talk of other happy trends, ignoring me completely. That is not true about the critters when I talk to them. The Mouse in the Mailbox and I have come to terms. I am leaving the door to his house open, and he is waiting for me to close it so he can move back in. The other new acquaintance is the Magic Cottontail, who I met yesterday for the first time. I hope it is not an omen.

I have bunnies on the property, the kind native to the County. They normally flush when the Panzer crunches onto the gravel drive, and they rocket all sleek and lean toward the fence-line. Bunnies, is the only thing I thought about them.

I had completed the project of the day right around cocktail hour, and I will not bore you with the minutia of how it was achieved, save that it required the resurrection of the World’s Fastest Production Pick Up Truck for some thoroughly slow-motion delivery services, and the realization that the gas tank had not been topped off, according to the notebook I have maintained started by Uncle Dick the Bomber Pilot at mile 0 on the odometer, and right through 43,557 as of yesterday.

The last date in the book was late in 2010. I felt the loss of last summer acutely, and was thankful that I was able to once again ambitious enough to consider personal involvement in home improvement.

Here was the task as I started to get organized:

There were a daunting number of moving parts and screws, but I needed to have a place to put coolers and seat cushions and lawn tools for the times I am away.

It turned out all right, I think. Judge for yourself:

OK, OK, so it is a prefab, but the junk is out of the way, and I basked in a certain measure of self-satisfaction. The labors were complete at just after five, and the sun was still bright and welcoming as I wandered back into the kitchen, looking forward to that first frosty beverage. I checked the email out of force of habit, and that is when I caught a motion in the corner of my eye.

I saw something very large out by the weed patch. Bigger than a gopher, certainly a large, if not larger than Biscuit the Wonder Spaniel. I walked over to the window to get better clarity on the nature of the visitor. Badger? Something with teeth?

Gazing at the animal as it moved, I saw that it was a rabbit, but a gigantic one. Long brown ears; powerful flanks. Massive body. It moved slowly along the beams of the raised garden, sniffing and nibbling as it went.

As you know, rabbits are known as tricksters in many civilizations around the world, and this one seemed to have a gentle smile that went along with a steady return gaze.

The steady gaze from the animal was quite remarkable. The other critters- raccoons, groundhogs, squirrels, deer -are quite wary of me, and disappear as soon as I am noticed by sound or smell. I was not even sure it was a rabbit when I first sensed the motion of something moving along the weed field that occupies the garden patch.

I went out on the deck to more closely examine the beast, expecting it to flee with the sound of the storm door slamming behind me.

Like the Mail Mouse, though, this enormous creature stood his or her ground and gazed back, stock still. Could be female, I thought. Pregnancy could account for the size. Or this was just Man Mountain Buck the Hare.

“So what’s up, Doc?” I asked.

The animal should have fled, but it did not. Instead, it turned to better observe me on the porch. In so doing, the creature displayed a prominent white cottontail. It was definitely not hopping down the bunny trail: instead, it moved for a better and unobstructed view of me.

I rattled the ice in my drink to see if there would be a reaction to a sound other than my voice, and there was. The creature seemed poised not for flight, but for conversation. If this was a cottontail, it meant that this was a surface dwelling animal, which most rabbits are not. A heroic figure of a hare, I thought.

“What do you think of the jobs numbers?” I asked. “Do you feel better about the economy?”

There was no response, and it probably was not a question the animal considered, since it was clear that its role as a Hare was full time, and in no immediate danger of becoming part time unless one of the hawks spiraling on the afternoon thermals about the farm saw it.

We looked at each other for a while, both of us un-moving. In many cultures, the Hare is known as a bringer of luck- in ours, of course the lucky rabbit’s foot being good luck for us, though less so for the donor. In others, the hare is a trickster, capable of fooling the farmer while helping himself to the bounty of his garden. Maybe it is a Magic Rabbit, I thought. A talisman of sorts, perhaps.

I am going to consider this new resident of Refuge Farm to be a good luck charm, and he is welcome to keep his feet as long as I have something to do with it. If it turns out he is a trickster, I think I can hook him up with a job at the Bureau of labor Statistics.

Copyright 2013 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com