Author Topic: Every little soul must shine


Every little soul must shine
« on: August 12, 2012 »
Life wild and not so wild in the environs of NACF HQ:

Why the word 'gambolling' was invented

Not so weasel-ey recognised

Of all our visitors, rabbits are my favourite.

We offer sanctuary from our nearest neighbour, an avid gardener.

They used to have siestas under the car, when we had a car. Last year one took up residence on a grassy knoll behind our house. Not as timid as most, whenever we entered his field of vision he'd simply turn his back, content that if he couldn't see us we couldn't see him.

One evening when my wife was cycling home from the train station she came upon a large group of fist-sized youngsters cavorting in the road. She pulled over and watched them line up at the edge of the tarmac in a very orderly fashion when cars rushed by. They sat there for a bit, then turned around back into the meadows to hop again another day.

Every little soul must shine.


Leporidae domesticus
« Reply #1 on: December 21, 2017 »
Over the course of the past two years I've become somewhat knowledgeable on the subject of the house rabbit.

If there's one thing you can't say to them, it's "No running in the house please."

Taking a keen interest in a hair straightener. No, you don't need that for your ears.

The back of that shelf has a plexiglass barrier bolted to it in what turned out to be a vain attempt at denying access to a place where appliances and various chargers are frequently plugged in. A minute or so after this picture was taken, he made the leap. It may not look too difficult, but note that it’s going from one slippery surface to another, at an awkward angle. We now keep these curtains closed if he’s in a scampy mood and we can’t directly supervise him.

Rabbits like to chew. They need to chew. Chewing is their specialist subject. Naturally, we provide objects specifically made to meet this need, such as this wood panel, which he occasionally deigns to nibble.

The bag his litter comes in is also on the approved list.

Then there's his collection of cardboard tubes.

Furniture is on the unapproved list (as are cords to Venetian blinds),

though the slats holding the mattress are OK, as long as they maintain structural integrity.

Moulding was a big worry before he arrived. To our relief, he’s satisfied himself with just a few nibbles here and there.

And he’s left the coffee table alone! Likewise the wing chair he's grooming underneath in the first picture.

Probably his very favourite targets, aside from my wife's slippers, are drapes.

Those hung unmolested for a dozen years. Oh well.

Who knows what he makes of my CD collection.

"My chosen subject is the music of Shania Twain"

Rabbit, rest.

Re: leporidae domesticus
« Reply #2 on: December 21, 2017 »
Who knows what he makes of my CD collection.

The lower shelves don't impress him much, but he's sad that the Leonard Cohen is out of reach.


glass house
« Reply #3 on: December 30, 2017 »

I don’t know what we'd do without glass. Not only would our living room be very drafty,

the little guy would be constantly dining on lower shelf books (we also use fireplace screens – we have quite a collection).

It keeps curious teeth from all manner of mischief, including plug point mayhem hidden in compelling crevices, and in this case, phone lines.

"You still have a landline? Not anymore."

Fortunately I have a bit of a glass fetish. It's almost like magic to me. And, I suspect, to him.

You've been eating too many books, bunny.

That's more like it.

I grew up in a small American town with a defunct glass factory. The gaffers, Europeans happily diving into the melting pot at the time, turned out all manner of objets de consommation.

Accessorised for that glass ceiling

This candle holder/rabbit bollard probably would've been too plain for their tastes, but pleases me and keeps him from digging into yet more infrastructure.

When we first prepared the house for its chompy new arrival I went down to the local tip and discovered people throw out good stuff all the time. Here’s my latest acquisition, so nice and solid and bevelled:

Scraping off the remains of the decal was a labour of love.

Are you sure you want to eat something that heavy before your nap?


Close encounters
« Reply #4 on: June 30, 2019 »
I was trying out a new light - actually an old one found hibernating in the loft yesterday - and it must have worked pretty well, because I spotted this little guy early one morning:

He was a willing enough model. After putting away my camera camera (which I started carrying after being stuck with a phone camera for an encounter with a pair of runaways last month), I went back to check on his progress. When he wasn't immediately visible, I became horrified that I had rewarded his patience by squashing him. Fortunately not. So I helped him across the road, which must seem like an ocean of tarmac on that scale. He wee’d* on my cycling glove, possibly in gratitude.

It reminded me of the King Kong encounter upthread

I don't recall the circumstances, though that looks like a gardening glove.

* Past tense of wee is woe, according to one wag on the web

Obvious caption

Q: Why did the badger cross the road?
A: To laugh at me from behind the hedge as I fumbled to get my camera out of the saddlebag in time. As if I ever had a chance.

Another early morning hopper, outside my front door then off on a jungle adventure.

(What can I say, I’m fond of creatures that wouldn’t have required the services of Eadweard Muybridge.)