Virtual Quill

Just one more question about Dad’s recall election. Just how much of her CEO salary did Kell use to fund Dad’s winning campaign? Right now no one is talking, and nobody has to until it’s time to pay income taxes.
So with life in Domain resuming what passes for normal in this family, Fenton and I drove up for the Fourth of July celebrations with our families. This involved a great deal of logistics; no, not in traveling, but in researching the projected trajectories of the fireworks. You see, Fenton and I intended to get as close to the explosions as safely possible.
We found a spot 400 feet above ground, and circled as the display began at 9:10 that evening. We made sure to stay far enough away to avoid any air shocks that would disrupt Fenton’s flying ability. Other bats also took in the show, and insects, too. It was so spectacular that no predation took place.
We landed, and removed the ear plugs that protected our hearing.
We stayed a few extra days, and departed for Beige U. on the morning of the last shuttle launch. As a former astronaut that was a highly emotional moment for me.
Note to space: We’ll be back.

The reverberations from the ear placement event continued internationally. (Dad’s recall election was just a local manifestation, and received only cursory mention in the non-rabbit media.) The rest of the world’s species were mainly interested in how it would affect them.
At first there were reports from everywhere that it was happening to the ears of other species, but that turned out to be just individuals who’d woken up after sleeping on their ears wrong. Those reports soon went away, and after it became obvious that the event wasn’t being repeated the media moved on to a story about a stupidly tweeting Congressman.
Among rabbit society, though, the impact will be long-lasted. One thing that grabs their attention is a threat from outside, and it will be very hard for predators like the Krokodile Brothers to pull another scam of this sort. (They’ll have to think of new scams, which I’m sure they’re doing right now.)
Meanwhile, back home Rudy has finally figured out why his garden is the tallest in town: He’s the only non-herbivore gardener, and as a result he’s not sneaking nibbles on the produce. (Still, that doesn’t explain why his seeds sprouted first.)
I’ll close with something I’ve heard via this connection to the human world. In sections of your North America, Fenton’s species is been wiped out by a condition called White Nose Syndrome. Is this true? I’m concerned.

It began as rabbits began waking in the time zones beyond the International Date Line, sweeping across the globe with the rising sun. By nightfall it had engulfed rabbits across the planet. Those whose ears were either up or down found they had a matched set.
I'll get into our personal details in a moment, but for now I'll wear my scientist hat. The prevailing theory is that all rabbits are connected to each other on a subconscious level; sort of a psychic warren. The efforts to use their innate fear to divide them produced a cognitive dissonance that expressed itself psychosomatically. In short, it dealt with the division over ear placement by eliminating the difference.
After that occurred it was as if a spell had been broken. Rabbit society realized what was being done, and reacted against those creating the divisions.
Locally, that resulted in Dad winning his recall election by a wide margin. Fenton and I had driven up from Beige and were there to share the special night, in which he was declared the victor almost as soon as the polls closed.
By morning, the ears of the world's rabbits were back to their previous state. Fortunately, their mental state remained changed as they ceased making any kind of a big deal over ear placement.

The campaign to divide rabbits on the basis of ear placement has worked with terrible efficiency. As Dad says, fear makes one stupid, and abject fear is the default tendency of the rabbit population.
The coalition of rich predators, headed by the Krocodile Brothers, has found two rabbits willing to run against Dad. One had ears that stand straight up and other is a lop. The predators are funding the two challengers equally, knowing that no matter which is elected they’ll control a seat on the Rabbit Council. Obviously, with the electorate divided the way it is, few rabbits will vote for Dad since he doesn’t fall into either ear camp.
As his campaign manager Elanor is doing her best to shift the vote away from a referendum on ear placement, but even with money from Kell’s CEO salary it’s been impossible.
Staring defeat in the face, it speaks well of Dad that he’s not bitter about his species. He knows its faults all too well, but even after years of banishment he took a seat on the Council when it was offered. If it’s taken away, I don’t think he’ll bear a grudge.
I will, though.
With the university quiet during the summer, Fenton and I are heading up to Domain. We want to be there for him on Father’s Day, and Election Night on Tuesday.

The slumber party intruder turned out to be a political investigator named Bart Notsobright, trying to get dirt on Dad by breaking into the house and stealing data storage devices from the Hare Link office in the basement. Like most people, he underestimated Coney. (He was lucky, too; a few years ago Coney would have simply eaten him.) The police were summoned, and he was taken away. Kell and Dad served a regular breakfast to the guests, and Lin and her mom went home with a story to tell.
The political development surprised everyone since Dad didn’t even know that his position on the Rabbit Council was under the threat of a recall.. He’d been appointed a while ago to fill out the term of a previous member, but the regular election wouldn’t be for years.
Behind the scenes, however, money was talking. Loudly. Rich predators were launching a media campaign to divide rabbits on the basis of whether their ears were up or down. Rabbits, always inclined to be fearful and suspicious, began turning on each other.
Dad’s ears, of course, are unique and fall into both camps. Instead of seeing him as a uniting force, both side are being warped by those who see purity as a ideal.
How does this play out? We’ll find out soon. The recall election is in two weeks.

For a member of a non-aquatic species who dreams of becoming a lawyer, the challenges are great and numerous. In our world the division of land and sea has created two societies that rarely (if ever) connect, and the amphibians who straddle them are regarded with suspicion by both sides. The exception to this are sharks.
Almost exclusively they make up the legal profession that serves us. Somehow, even with armies of bloodthirsty predators on land, they became the most effective at what they do. (Of course, it eventually became law that the status quo would stay that way.)
They did leave a loophole. Recognizing the danger that the profession would stagnate, they allowed land-based species to attend law school. The catch was that they had to show they really wanted it...by attending underwater classes. They would have to demonstrate success outside of their natural terrain.
Few attempt this, and even fewer survive. Two who did are Lin’s mother and father, tigers who have their own legal office in town. This all came out during the slumber party, which greatly impressed Kell.
Next week I’ll report on the events of the morning after, which included an unscheduled visitor.
Today's question: Are there any human lawyers who read this?

As a write this, Coney is having her preschool friend Lin Lee over for a slumber party. As it turned out, the only way that was allowed to happen was that Lin’s mother (Mei Li Lee, the Tiger Mom) would also attend as a package deal. So, after dinner Dad and Rudy retreated upstairs as the mother and daughter arrived at 7:30.
The two girls have had a nice evening, watching animated films on DVD, playing age-appropriate video games and also a couple traditional board games. Conversation between the two moms has been...strained. It sounds as if Kell is cognizant of her new authority and doesn’t want to act dominant, and Ms. Lee also doesn’t want to act submissive.
Sorry for the brief report, but the evening is only half over. I’ll give everyone a complete update when I have more info (thanks to Rudy’s tweets).

Nervously, I stayed up during the daylight hours keeping tabs on the news of the launch of the Herd Thinners, Inc. insect product line. Twitter and Facebook allowed me and everyone else (including the business media such as CNBC) to track how sales were faring in the local metro area.
As soon as stores opened sales began pouring in. That was the first hurdle, and of course it was a major one. If demand had not been there nothing else would have mattered. The demand was there, as Kell herself knew from the personal experience of trying to shop for me.
Everything appeared to be a huge success, and the company stock rose throughout the day. Behind the scenes, however, a crisis was taking place. The insectivores that Kell had hired to bring in the bugs had vanished.
Frantic searches for them gave way to the realization that the company might not be able to fulfill the orders, something that’s never happened before. The humiliation would have brought about Kell’s immediate dismissal.
At sundown things looked hopeless and Kell was preparing to tender her resignation when the most amazing thing occurred. A mass of insects appeared, from the opposite direction from where they were expected, being herded by the insectivores into the company’s processing center. Chief among the insectivores was the cow Kell had inexplicably hired on a hunch, keeping the herd together by swishing her tail.
What had happened? When they went out into the field the insectivores had realized that they were being followed by company felines bent on thwarting Kell’s plan. Their objective was to force Kell’s resignation and install one of their own as CEO. The insectivores immediately shut down all communications and proceeded to areas beyond their planned hunting grounds. Avoiding the felines almost made them too late, but they arrived in the nick of time.
So, everything’s good, with one exception. Kell now knows she has a feline problem at work. Managing it could make or break her.

No, not the shuttle launch of the Endeavour, although that’s a go for tomorrow as I write this. (Godspeed!) I’m referring to the countdown to the rollout of the Herd Thinners, Inc. line of insect meals. Kell’s entire career rides on this.
For years she’s been personally aware of this unmet market, mainly due to the difficulty of shopping for me. (I definitely feel emotionally invested in this.) When she ascended to CEO this was the first of her initiatives because she felt it stood the best chance of success.
It hasn’t been easy. Going against the entrenched HT bureaucracy meant she had to convince the board plus her main benefactor, Predator Emeritus R.L. Once she climbed that Everest, she had to create an entire division from scratch, hiring insectivores, putting together the delivery infrastructure and creating a marketing campaign. That she’s been able to do this in less than six months is nothing short of miraculous.
And tomorrow is when it all happens. The HT slogan is “Roar to Store in 24,” as the company guarantees fresh product. So, Kell hasn’t had the luxury of building up an inventory. The insectivores have go out into the Wild, and by sundown bring in enough bugs to satisfy whatever orders come in.
We’ll all be holding our breath.

That title is a bit harsh, but how else does one explain Rudy’s vegetable garden coming up before any other herbivore’s in the neighborhood? Beginner’s luck, maybe, but even I didn’t have that kind of success during my childhood years as a plant eater. Dad is particularly taken aback, especially since on one hand he’s Rudy’s mentor but on the other... Well, Dad can be competitive.
The person most disturbed by this development of course, was Rudy himself. This cuts to the very heart of the self-image he’s so carefully constructed around himself. Namely, that he’s not Dad.
“One of us...One of us...One of us...”
I know that annoys him.
Meanwhile, I’ll be able to needle him in person because Fenton and I are driving up to Domain for Mother’s Day. We’ll spend the day with my folks, and then the evening with his.
In other gardening news, my flowers are blooming to the delight of the bees across the street. Tree is behaving herself, although sometimes when the wind blows through her branches she sounds like she’s muttering under her breath.

Before I report on the family drama I’d like to acknowledge the tragic wave of tornados that swept through the region this week. With Tree’s newly replanted roots still vulnerable to high winds we were especially at risk. The bee queen Cassiopeia invited us to take cover with them if it looked like we were in danger, but the storms never got that close to us. We do want to support those who were not so fortunate, and here’s a Facebook page of one relief effort.
Before all that occurred, the big news was Rudy’s annual Easter Bunny drama. It ended with all of the eggs being delivered by the Kindle relatives, so now Rudy owes them all vegetables from his yet-to-be-planted garden. (Personally, I wouldn’t hold my breath for any produce from that source.)
The other bit of news was that our little cousin Wendell Luckyfoot signed a contract making him the Easter Bunny in Training. Rudy suspected they’d run into him again, and he made sure to bring the contract along as he’s looking forward to handing off the duties when the time comes. Gran’s presence with her notary stamp was a convenient accident.
We’ll see how things go next Easter!

It was an eventful Easter, as it always is when Rudy is involved.
It goes back to last year, when Rudy and Fiona encountered a young rabbit named Wendell Luckyfoot who was rather single-minded in his ambition to one day assume the Easter Bunny job. After that incident in which he rescued Rudy and Fiona from a very large bear, Rudy did some research and found that Wendell was actually one of Gran's many grandchildren. That's why Rudy knew how to contact Wendell's mom in September when they both met in a tattoo parlor.
This year's trouble started when Fiona (who loves cosplay) applied industrial strength rabbit pheromones as a disguise. It worked too well, attracting a pack of wolves beyond the ability of the two to defend themselves. Once again Wendell saved them, and they found themselves escaping into the Rabbit Warren.
I grew up down there, but to the uninitiated it can be surprising. Rudy and Fiona didn't know that a vast civilization exists beneath their feet. Some of the sections such as the Marketplace are the size of cathedrals.
They ran into Gran, who (finally) introduced herself to Wendell. With time running out on the egg delivery she called all of her relations including Dad and Grandpa. I'd have helped, too, if I hadn't been away here at Beige U.
More next week on the aftermath!

The process of hiring insectivores at Herd Thinners is now complete. Kell has hand-picked the staff of a division that she feels she can count on to implement her policy. What remains is a month-long orientation process, and then on May 16 they’ll go out into the field. So much is riding on them like, Kell’s whole career.
The orientation process is important because these species (shrews, spiders, bats and, yes, hedgehogs) don’t have the same feeding instincts that Herd Thinners’ traditional employees do, who grow up in groups and share the kills. Insectivores simply eat as many bugs as they can find and leave it at that. Doing so, of course, would defeat the objective of the company’s mission of selling prey.
So, they have to be taught to eat some for themselves and bring in the rest for the company to sell. This will be complicated; it’s one thing for a traditional predator to bring in half an elk, but it’s silly to expect a bug-eater to bring in half a bee. They’ll be arriving with whole insects, sometimes still alive.
Thinking about it, I suspect that the spiders will be the most effective Herd Thinners employees. Their prey will come prepackaged in silk.

Easter is only weeks away, but I’m already looking ahead to the summer. At this time last year I was going absolutely insane planning both my wedding and preparing for graduation. Looking back on all of the drama that surrounded those days I have no idea how I survived it.
Nowadays life is hardly stress-free, of course, but halfway manageable. Fenton is still taking undergraduate courses, and I’m in the process of getting my Masters in Genetics. (I’m currently seeing if it’s possible to create a flower whose pollen doesn’t cause allergic reactions. No luck so far.)
There’s another month to go in the semester, and in years past mid-May would mean a trip back to Domain for the summer. This is our home now, so when all of the students depart we’ll stay in this suddenly deserted college town with the rest of the “Townies”...a species to which we belong as well. In the immediate vicinity the inhabitants will be mainly us and the bee colony across the street.
Fenton and I will stay busy maintaining the Hare-Link servers, and one of my professors asked me to co-author a paper for a research journal. It’s the online equivalent of getting one of the top websites to link to you; a way of getting noticed.
So, I’ll be dividing my time between the lab and my domestic life at home. As long as Cassiopeia keeps her bees in line, we can handle it.

I’m having some difficulty with Tree, who is taking a dim view of my Good Neighbor policy of planting a flower garden for the bee colony to pollinate. I wasn’t aware of this, but it seems that trees and flowers have a rivalry on the order of cats and dogs.
Tree is the only representative of the plant kingdom that can articulate this, but according to her it’s widespread. Trees reserve a special distaste for flowers that’s even more intense than the feelings directed at those who chop them down. That’s not logical, but prejudice never is. Tree assures me the flowers harbor similar resentments. That’s probably true, but unprovable. Daisy, our pet flower back home, doesn’t have the power of speech.
When the first of the flowers I’d planted sprouted up, Tree began dropping pine cones on them, crushing the tender shoots. I gave her a stern talking up, backed up by Fenton. Tree sulked, but the aerial bombardment ceased.
I need to remind her that this is all for the benefit of Tree’s special friend, the maple across the street. The bee colony inhabits him now, and keeping the colony happy will make life better for him and, by extension, for Tree. We’ll have to see if that logic sinks in.