When I was younger, I was huge fan of the Redwall series. (I still take a bit of pride in having been an active member of the online fanclub Dibbuns Against Bedtime that was integrated into one of the later novels. Even if I haven't read said later novel.)
So, I thought I'd reread Redwall -- why not?
The opening scene is our bumbling little novice friend, Matthias the mouse tripping across the abbey in an oversized tunic and sandals. What's my first thought?
Geez, Abbott Mortimer is certainly failing according to the Rule of Saint Benedict, which specifically instructs the Abbott to ensure that all novices and brothers have properly fitting robes.
Ah -- the joys of being a religions geek!
Friday, June 27, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Well, look what the cat dragged in...
Today, my sister's cat merited his oh-so-cliched name. Rascal brought us a baby rabbit.
Mind you, we're quite used to finding small dead animals on the doorstep, courtesy of Rascal or the other cats multiple suitors. So if he had brought us a dead baby rabbit, we would have sighed, and buried it, and gone on with life. However, Rascal decided not to kill the baby rabbit. In fact, other than piercing the baby's ear, he didn't harm the rabbit at all. He just brought the baby in the house and dropped it at the sister's feet
So, now we have a baby bunny, eyes not open, in apparently perfect health. (He's as active as a comparably aged kitten, so we don't think there are any internal injuries.) We've got him in a box with an old dishtowel and a heating pad of microwaved rice. The plan is to wait until it's close to dusk (when momma rabbits return to the nest according to a couple wildlife rehab sites), put him outside where we think the mother might find him, and hope for the best. (The mother's won't take them back was they've been touched by a human tale is apparently false.)
The baby is cute. Especially when he's dreaming. Or having nightmares about being picked up by a huge tomcat and dragged away from his nest. He "pops" every now and then. And there are pictures and video when I get them from the sister's camera.
Stupid cat.
ETA: We believe that the baby rabbit (dubbed George Michael by my sister, for reasons unknown but presumed to be sufficient) has been reclaimed by his mother. We left him in the area where we suspected the nest might be and were checking on him every now and then. Around 11, I shown a flashlight down to the were he was from the deck and saw a full-grown rabbit hopping away. Cut the lights, waited thirty minutes, and then walked down to check. No George Michael in his box, no signs of raccoon or possum dining, we suspect momma rabbit has her baby back.
Good thing too, as the closest wildlife rehab center is a 140 mile round trip. Saving this bunny could have gotten quite expensive. And, although, my mother was well on her way to trying to domesticate him . . . well, we really don't need an illegal pet rabbit -- cute though he might have been. (Little white stripe on his forehead. Very adorable. I mean, if a great-aunt had domesticated a skunk...)
Again. Stupid cat. But all's well that end's well.
Mind you, we're quite used to finding small dead animals on the doorstep, courtesy of Rascal or the other cats multiple suitors. So if he had brought us a dead baby rabbit, we would have sighed, and buried it, and gone on with life. However, Rascal decided not to kill the baby rabbit. In fact, other than piercing the baby's ear, he didn't harm the rabbit at all. He just brought the baby in the house and dropped it at the sister's feet
So, now we have a baby bunny, eyes not open, in apparently perfect health. (He's as active as a comparably aged kitten, so we don't think there are any internal injuries.) We've got him in a box with an old dishtowel and a heating pad of microwaved rice. The plan is to wait until it's close to dusk (when momma rabbits return to the nest according to a couple wildlife rehab sites), put him outside where we think the mother might find him, and hope for the best. (The mother's won't take them back was they've been touched by a human tale is apparently false.)
The baby is cute. Especially when he's dreaming. Or having nightmares about being picked up by a huge tomcat and dragged away from his nest. He "pops" every now and then. And there are pictures and video when I get them from the sister's camera.
Stupid cat.
ETA: We believe that the baby rabbit (dubbed George Michael by my sister, for reasons unknown but presumed to be sufficient) has been reclaimed by his mother. We left him in the area where we suspected the nest might be and were checking on him every now and then. Around 11, I shown a flashlight down to the were he was from the deck and saw a full-grown rabbit hopping away. Cut the lights, waited thirty minutes, and then walked down to check. No George Michael in his box, no signs of raccoon or possum dining, we suspect momma rabbit has her baby back.
Good thing too, as the closest wildlife rehab center is a 140 mile round trip. Saving this bunny could have gotten quite expensive. And, although, my mother was well on her way to trying to domesticate him . . . well, we really don't need an illegal pet rabbit -- cute though he might have been. (Little white stripe on his forehead. Very adorable. I mean, if a great-aunt had domesticated a skunk...)
Again. Stupid cat. But all's well that end's well.
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