The voices in my head have been quiet since Sunday night, when I had a full eight hours of angry dreams. Sweetie came home that night and touched me in my sleep - he almost got a roundhouse to the jaw before I realized who it was.
The 14 year cicadas have been making a hellava racket around these parts. Almost deafening in places. I wonder sometimes just how long it took, evolution-wise, to figure out that such an odd life cycle made survival sense.
My neighbor Nancy said she saw a huge owl on the Methodist church steeple last night. (The Methodist church that sits in what should be our back yard.) With a 6 foot wingspan, she said. Me thinks she exaggerates, but still, last night there was an owl nearby that was big enough to nab two bunnies. All I found this morning were two little black bunny tails, lots of small pieces of fur, and a pile of fresh innards. I figured a raptor or an owl, and neighbor Nancy confirmed my suspicion. I guess I feel better that an avian species caught and ate them than knowing a dog had merely killed them for sport. I like owls. I like hawks. And baby owls and baby hawks gotta eat.
Big Harry (Harriet) died over the weekend from a delivery gone horribly wrong. Her chest and belly were plucked bare of fur, so she'd obviously had a litter. But her female parts were horribly distended and swollen. Found her limp on Monday evening and when she didn't die overnight, I began life support. She ate and drank, but remained paralyzed and she died Saturday night. Poor baby.
So, last night I captured Baby Harry/Harriet and brought him/her inside the house to live. S/he displays the beautiful lion head mane; and s/he is the only suchlike survivor that harkens back to Stubby. I wish I could keep them all safe.
The female bunny life of unrelenting childbirth and nursing and all the inherent dangers remembers me of the life led by myriad women over the millennia. Let us not take birth control for granted. If being evolved means only one thing to humans, it has to be being able to limit and/or time pregnancies.
Other bunny predators are the white trash kids that are part and parcel of the Evil Neighbor Jerry and his kin; they have been kidnapping any bunny they can catch. I have had to run several of the nasty little ankle biters out of my yard. Their mom/aunt urges them on as she wants to make money breeding them. She particularly wants Winehouse because of her singular eyes, but Amy stays very close to the back of the house. And she bites. I have the scar to prove it.
The Days of Our Bunnies. The Bold and the Bunniful. Bunny Hospital.
Knitting is happening. Or rather, crocheting, as I am nearing the finish line of the purple cashmere shawl. I spent days designing the perfect border, and several hours trying to execute same. Feh. So I am crocheting the bind off. Pictures as soon as possible. I am ready to be shet of this project.
Lastly, found a big ol' spider on the porch tonight, about three inches across. Cool, huh?