There are four bunnies in the house at the moment. The usual L'il Bit, Fiona (and the only reason that she is still inside is my own inertia. Also, she is low maintenance,) and Sparkle, whom I am really loving a lot.
The fourth one is Eeyore. Did I spell that right? I reference the donkey from Winnie the Pooh. I originally called him Gomer, and he is a rescue. ("We just don't know how to take care of an angora!" they said. Sigh.)
So. Are you eating? Then do not read further.
Eeyore and Heizen have been living in the back yard enclosure most of the summer, with the chickens. Seemingly in peace, for the most part. But now, the Roosters have gotten larger and more aggressive and Eeyore is an intact male and that meant trouble.
One of the roosters pecked his eye out. Really. Well, maybe not out, but the eye no longer works. He has never wanted to be held or handled, but when I discovered flies all over his little head and investigated, then picked him up - he went limp. Probably thinking, I am already dead, do with me what you will.
Oh. Ick.
Timing, not so good. I had guests (!) and was just serving dinner(!) to them. "You do not want to see this, you all," I said as I hauled his sorry ass into the bathroom/surgury. I think I could be a trauma nurse, because blood and maggots (oh, yes, lots of tiny little maggots, all over his head,) do not gross me out. His head looked like something out of a zombie movie. The eye is toast and I can only think it must have been a rooster. This all happened on Wednesday, and I figured that if he made it through the night, he might survive. And now, the little feller is still kicking and healing right up. I have been smearing super-dooper anti-robotic on the eye every day, and clearing away the icky bits. He is eating, drinking and living, so I reckon he will make it.
I am thinking of calling him Cyclops, though.
