APR 30, 2010 – 12:00AM

I was riding home the other night/early morning under a nearly full moon. The sky was clear and the winds unusually calm.

I’d only made it a couple of blocks from the office when I noticed a couple of shapes hip-hopping across the road ahead.

I’m not a fan of hip-hop in general, and in this particular case, I knew the hip-hopees were the bane of many a late-night bike commuter’s existence: rabbits.

I’ve groused about the presence of bunnies before.

And probably will again.

I’ve had more close calls with rabbits than any other critter, and that includes that odd stretch awhile back when my bike seemed to attract all the outdoor cats within earshot. And by attract, I don’t mean they merely gathered on street corners and watched me pass. I mean, they put their whiskery little heads down and barreled right at me. (As a follow up, I think I figured out a loosened crankarm and chain in need of lube combined to make my bike sound like a rolling can opener. Stupid kitties.)

But back to the bunnie run-ins (bun-ins?)

I recall in my last jackrabbit hack job, I learned that cottontails are crepuscular. That is, they’re particularly active at dawn and dusk and (drumroll, please) nights of particularly bright moons.

And this recent ride certainly met that standard, so I braced myself for an onslaught of the stupid little beasties.

Sure enough, just about every couple of blocks I’d encounter another cottontail or two. Invariably, they’d look up, bolt into the street, run alongside me for a few feet, then veer away. Except when they veered toward me instead.

Did I mention the pea-brains aren’t particularly bright? I’ve had the little lettuce-lovers dart between my wheels before, though I’ve never actually hit one.

That almost changed the other night.

I was just a few blocks from home when I saw the unmistakable movement of a rabbit crossing the road ahead. Then another. And another. I counted five or six of the little buggers all flooding into the street just ahead of me, so I slowed accordingly, when the darnedest thing happened.

From my right, two buns bum-rushed me.

One bolted right in front of me, narrowly missing my front tire.

The other, however, went vertical, and though I shouldn’t be surprised, it had mad hops. It launched itself at my bike, heading straight for my headtube. The daredevil actually jumped over my front tire; the shadow it cast as it flew past my handlebars — and through the beam of my headlight — was spectacularly surreal.

I felt I was in a scene from Monty Python and thought about putting out a call for the Holy Hand Grenade.

Now not only do I have to be on the lookout for potholes and wayward drivers, I have to keep a wary eye out for flying, homicidal rabbits with wicked ups.

Never a dull commute.