Entries by Lindesfarne

Poor Fiona! Just after I’d returned to Beige University I got a text from Rudy that the tech fortune she’d accumulated had been wiped out.
These days it’s sadly a common story, and even though her investments were as conservative as they could possibly be they were still vulnerable. I like Fiona a lot, and this just sickens me.
From what I’m told the Fennec family (Uncle Ralph, Martha, Fiona and Corrie) has one asset left: their vast mansion which is paid for, free and clear. Still, they have to pay for its upkeep, and then there’s property taxes. Uncle Ralph has his job at Hare Link, and Corrie does the Herd Thinners, Inc. website design and maintenance, so they still have two regular paychecks and (more importantly) health benefits. I don’t know if their current income will cover everything. I know what Uncle Ralph makes, and R.L. isn’t known for paying big salaries to non-hunting staff like Corrie.
Looking ahead, I hope this doesn’t impact Fiona’s ability to go to college. (Corrie, already with a career, has no intention of pursuing higher education.) Rudy has told me that several colleges have expressed interest in giving Fiona an athletic scholarship, so I hope that’s the case.
I’m looking at Hare Link’s finances. We’re good.
For now.

I love Kell; she's the mother I never had while growing up. I never even think of her as a stepmother anymore. Still, I acknowledge that she has her foibles (most of which come from her basic canine nature).
This came out Christmas Eve night when the family was gathered together, as usual for the holiday. (For me, of course, it was morning. As the nocturnal member of the group it's my job stay up all night guarding the presents.) Kell became focused on how Ms. Eyeshine was doing across the street.
While Kell doesn't have any pit bull in her, she does sometimes get a solid grip on an idea and won't let go. After a half hour of obsessing over it she finally went over to invite her to join us. Dad didn't argue; he knows her too well not stand in the way when she gets like this.
After about twenty minutes Kell returned alone, somewhat sheepish. Ms. Eyeshine had given Kell a Christmas ornament (a hairball covered with spray glue and glitter) which was hung on our tree.
Kell said that Ms. Eyeshine had kindly and patiently explained that felines celebrate holidays in a solitary fashion. (Something most of us knew already!) We ate dinner, and afterwards Kell took one of the bones remaining from the meal and covered it with glitter. By the next morning, Ms. Eyeshine had a new ornament for her tree.
This week's question for my human friends, How do you celebrate the New Year?

In addition to the usual Dewclaw drama I’m also now (almost) a member of another family. That entails a new set of obligations, including attending their family functions. In this case, their holiday gatherings.
I’m the only non-bat in the room, and at these parties everyone hangs from the ceiling. At first this was awkward, but now I simply use my quills to stick to a wall upside down. While that renders me immobile, I’m able to interact with the group. As you know, diet is what plays the dominant role in this society so as long I share their insect-eating customs we’re okay.
Speaking of which, knowing Quinn (Rhonda’s hedgehog husband) has reminded me that I’m not typical of my species. Most hedgehogs devour land-based bugs, but I fly so much with Fenton that I usually eat airborne insects. I tried introducing Quinn to winged snacks, but while he ate them I think he regarded them mostly as an exotic diversion. (Tigress Rhonda, of course, sees even the largest insects as food too small to even bother to floss.)
As usual, Fenton’s mom kept up her usual campaign to get me to set a date for the wedding. I held my tongue, but one of the uncles told me not pay her any mind. (I had to listen to him, after all. I couldn’t move.) He said that Fenton’s mom knows that I’m a “catch” and she’s afraid I’ll change my mind. (As if!) Still, I guess I should take that as a compliment.
Lastly, a llama friend recreated Gran’s carrot nog. Here’s the photographic evidence:

I’ve returned to Domain, and I made all As this semester. (Again) My first night back, Fenton’s family sang Christmas carols for me. While I couldn’t hear anything, the canines in the house certainly could!
We had a holiday party for just the family, and Gran made up a batch of her legendary carrot-nog. I had just a sip, and boy did it clear the sinuses. Gran and Elanor both had more than they should and they ended up sharing confidences. I wouldn’t say that it brought them closer together, but they did drop their reserve and were more brutally honest than usual. I’d say they now understand each other a little better.
Elanor went upstairs to her room afterwards and slept it off. Meanwhile, it was up to me to walk Gran back to George and Danielle’s place. I was worried that we might encounter predators while Gran was in no condition to defend herself. I was fully prepared to use my quills but fortunately it was a silent night.
I considered giving out the recipe for Gran’s carrot-nog, but as I know from experience humans have a different physiology and I don’t want anyone injured by it. So, instead I’ll just list the ingredients:
carrot juice
vanilla soy milk
egg substitute
heavy cream
sugar
nutmeg
brandy
Kentucky bourbon
(These are not listed in relation to the amount used!)
Finally, I’d like to really, really thank Terri the Tiger for answering the question about porn last week in the Comments section, thereby sparing me the embarrassment of doing it!

By this time next week I’ll be back home for the holidays, but I still have a couple more exams to finish up here. In the meantime I’ll address some of the questions that were asked here last week after I’d signed off.
J.A.M. requested info on Marty Stouffer. Yes, he exists over here. He makes gritty, slice-of -life documentaries.
Luna wondered about our world’s J.R.R. Tolkein. As you might expect from someone so fond of trees, he was an arboreal species. Specifically, a squirrel. (His friend C.S. Lewis was a hedgehog, not a lion as many have assumed.)
Someone asked about the number of Christmases we’ve had since Coney was born. I’m not sure what they meant, but it’s been a normal amount. They’ve just been action-packed.
S c y t h e had a good suggestion that I ask one question of the human world per week. That shouldn’t risk instinct loss, so I’ll take you up on that. Considering that Rudy just got his drivers license, what traffic laws do you have over there?
During the short time that Fenton and I spent as humans I drove extremely cautiously to keep from being pulled over. (The picture on my drivers license still showed me as hedgehog.) I just followed what the other drivers on the highway were doing. (Following the herd, so to speak.)

I’m back at school following the Thanksgiving break, and for the next two weeks my life will be dominated by final exams. I’ve gotten my required courses out of the way now, so from this point on everything I take will be in my core curriculum of genetics. (Those required courses were a struggle, as they were all insectivore-based as befitting my species. However, I guess you all know that I was new to an insect-based diet, and a lot of catching up was involved. I’m up to speed now.)
Last week someone asked about the DNA analyses of indigenous species of North American. Yes, those have been done, and they support the theory that they migrated over the Bering Strait land bridge eons ago.
Someone else asked about the relative intelligence of different species here. I don’t know about humans, but here there is research that supports the concept of various types of intelligences with different yardsticks involved. The pioneering studies on this was done by a herbivore named Howard Garden.
Surprisingly, it was Gran who first led me to the readings in which the theory was based.

This year our official Thanksgiving meal will be just the five of us, plus the two grandmothers. (As I mentioned last week, that will be my breakfast so I’ll have cricket pancakes and fried beetle eggs, sunny-side up. Later that night I’ll have an actual dinner with Fenton and his parents.)
I’ve gathered that you humans have your own Thanksgiving tradition, but I’ll tell you ours. It began when a group of persecuted settlers left England in the early 1600s. These were foxes, who were being hunted for sport by the upper-class hounds. They landed in America, and found new conflict with the local population of canis lupus.
The two species occupied the same ecological niche, which led to competition and much tragedy later on. However, for one brief moment they set aside their differences for a feast that we re-create every November. (Earlier in Canada.)
The tradition was picked up by the hibernating species who incorporated the feast into their usual practice of fattening up for the winter. The herbivores joined in for a similar reason; the last chance to get as much nourishment as possible before their diet went dormant until spring. Soon everyone joined in, even groups that immigrated later and had no connection to the original feast. It was one of the first universal traditions that involved every single species.
The second universal tradition was shopping like mad the day after.

Unfortunately I was right about Rudy failing his driving test. The good news is that he can still take it again after a little more practice. Dad told me that he has some ideas that might help.
The holidays are coming up, which I approach with mixed feelings. While I enjoy coming home, it also puts me in close proximity to Fenton’s pushy parents. Thanksgiving Day is complicated, as my family serves its big meal at the time of day that’s breakfast for Fenton and I. Around 3 a.m., we’ll have dinner with Fenton’s parents. As much as she annoys me, I have to admit that his mom is an excellent cook. Her stuffed tarantula is to die for.
I’m co-writing a research paper with one of my professors, Dr. Tuskermann. It’s about cross-species genetic markers, such as the one I found for Domestication that occurs across the animal spectrum. (That remains controversial, and I need one of my professors as a co-author for it to be taken seriously.)
Lastly, the leaves are falling. That always reminds me of my herbivore childhood, and I get nostalgic. Then, I see a big juicy bug and my natural dietary instincts assert themselves.

The election’s over, and I’ll just say that I’m happy. The gazelle triumphed over the porcupine, which was historic. It’s the first time a species of an African habitat has been elected President. (It should be noted that while his father was an African gazelle, his mother was a North American whitetail deer. He’d have fit nicely into our diverse circle!)
For me, the main impact is that the executive restriction on stem cell research will be immediately overturned upon his Inauguration. This will make life at the lab immeasurably easier for me and for my whole team.
I’ll admit that I cried on Election Night. From growing up as a quilled species in the rabbit warren, to switching from a herbivore to an insectivore diet as a teen, to becoming a member of a terrifically diverse family, to be engaged to a member of another species...and not the least the discovery of my human origins...It was amazingly gratifying to see that significant differences could be overcome in such spectacular fashion. A member of an outsider group was not only embraced, but given the responsibility of leadership. It still takes my breath away.
Now the hard work starts.
Meanwhile, life goes on. This week Rudy is set to take his driving test for the first time. (I realize that the preceding statement doesn’t show a lot of confidence.)

Unlike most Sundays, I won't be able to respond to your replies from across the portal like I usually do. This isn't due to any inter-dimensional interference...It's just because I'll be gone all day campaigning for my candidate, so I'll have to wait until next Sunday for my weekly human conversation.
I do get a lot out of this regular give-and-take, and thankfully without it impacting my hedgehog instincts. (Once a week doesn't seem to reach some yet-to-be-determined tipping point causing instinct loss.) It's given me a window on my origins, filling in the gaps that were always in my background. I feel whole for the first time in my life.
I now feel ready to take on adulthood and its responsibilities. I'm still going to wait until graduation before marrying Fenton, but I'll be comfortable with myself when I eventually do. For that, you humans are partly to thank.
See you next Sunday!

Halloween’s coming up, and I had the option of going trick-or-treating as a spiderweb. Fenton and I were out flying, and he had a momentary lapse of concentration. The next thing I knew I was covered in silk. I was mad, and he felt awful. He’s been extra nice to me since. (I’m still finding the stuff in my quills.)
Speaking of Halloween, Fenton got wind of something his parents were plotting. They were going to pay trick-or-treaters to show up at my dorm room dressed as Wedding Planners. (They’re really persistent.) I’m still insisting on waiting until after I graduate, even though in my mind Fenton and I are already in a lifetime union. The main reason is...well, I don’t want to risk becoming a parent before I complete my degree.
Yes, plenty of college students do that and still graduate. (Kell, in fact, had Rudy during college and she graduated.) I just know how bad I am at multitasking. I focus intently on ONE THING at a time. When I do become pregnant, whenever that is, it will be all-encompassing for me.
This comes to mind because Rhonda was late this month. She and Quinn thought they might be expecting for a few days, but it was a false alarm.
Speaking of decisions, the election is reaching a crescendo, but I’m avoiding that topic since I want this corner of cyberspace to remain politics-free.
Finally, for all of you German-speaking fans of Hello Kitty, here’s my fave YouTube video of the week: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mJOJ9xhGanc. It’s a spoof of this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_-sm_B9HAM.

After signing off last Sunday night I simply couldn't sit in my dorm room watching my father suffer through the filibuster. I texted my professors and told them a family emergency was calling me away. Some of them knew exactly what that was, but other academics don't follow the news so much.
Two hours later I was back home, watching the TV along with Kell and Rudy. Hours later Dad collapsed, causing Kell to bemoan her decision not to go down there to be at his side no matter what the consequences. Suddenly a snake sprung down from an overhead vent.
Kell screamed, and Rudy and I sucked in our breath. That's when we saw Coney, who had been quietly keeping to herself in a corner, leap into action.
Before the snake could sink its fangs into Dad she grabbed its tail and, in one quick motion, swung its head into the wall. It was killed instantly, and Coney proceeded to slowly chew it which continued the filibuster. (No one objected since the rest of the Council had already fled in terror.)
They returned just before Dad regained consciousness. They knew they were beaten, and that if they wanted Coney's protection they'd have to reform themselves. Some decided not to go along, and at least one lived to regret it when they encountered the dead snake's spouse just outside the warren entrance.
So, Dad and Coney remain on the Council which no longer meets in shadows. We'll see how long they stay honest.
Lastly, to make up the classwork I missed by going home I won't be as available for follow-up comments as I usually am. I'll do my best, though!

I write this on Day Three of Dad’s filibuster of the Rabbit Council. I don’t know how much those of you on the other side of the portal know about this, but Dad discovered that all of the other Council members were fantastically corrupt. Kell didn’t want Coney to be associated with such behavior, so Dad tried to step down from his seat. The Council members still wanted Coney’s protection, however, and refused his resignation. That’s when he started his filibuster.
Some legislative bodies use speech to hold the floor, but food is such an important part of rabbit life that it’s the act of chewing that the Council recognizes. This is standard for herbivore groups, as predators usually swallow things much, much quicker.
I’m following the events online, and Kell and Rudy watch on the TV back home as Dad chews and Coney draws pictures with her crayons when she’s not sleeping. Kell wanted to retrieve Coney when the filibuster started, but knew that going down into the warren would...complicate matters. Gran and Danielle volunteered to get her, but the Council signaled that Coney had to stay. She seems okay; there’s a lot going on around her and of course she’s well fed from the food coming in from the rest of rabbit society.
There lies the tale: the reaction of other rabbits. Veggies are pouring in from all quarters to aid Dad. Of course his quest is to leave the Council, but his act of defiance has released a wave of support simply to express disapproval of the status quo. It’s inspiring, if it wasn’t so painful to see Dad pushed to the limits of physical endurance.

It was an enormous honor for Dad to be appointed to the Rabbit Council, although he remains an outsider among the group. When they convene he’s the only one who sits under a lamp while the rest remain in shadow. At first he thought that they sat in darkness out of an instinct for self-preservation, but with Coney there they should have nothing to fear.
To be honest, I never paid much attention to rabbit politics while I was growing up in the warren. You might say that was for obvious reasons, but looking back I wish I had. (I’m making up for that now.)
Speaking of instincts, last week I was asked about how Danielle and I acquired our respective rabbit and hedgehog instincts when we “crossed over” from being human. In my case, I was infant so I didn’t have an established neural framework to re-wire. It was more complicated for Danielle, and in some respects it was an incomplete process. She still enjoys eating meat, for instance, and is generally fearless. (The latter trait, of course, does run in the family.)
Danielle does acknowledge, though, that she has picked up some strong rabbit instincts. She won’t elaborate, but when she says that she smiles...at George.
My hedgehog instincts are still in full force. I wonder, though, if my being born as a human had something to do with being able to spent my entire childhood believing I was a herbivorous porcupine instead of an insect-eating hedgehog. Angelique forced that belief on me since she didn’t want to feed me crickets, but perhaps my origins left me malleable enough to maintain that identity all the way to my senior year in high school.
That needs more research. Research...Mmmm...happy place...

Danielle is coming to the Caliban Academy hunting competition this week as Rudy and his teammates play their archrival Domain High School. She, George and Francis will sit in the stands with Dad, Kell, Coney and Elanor. (Gran won’t be there; as the team’s conditioning coach her work is done by the time the competition starts.)
Danielle grew up with the human version of Gran as her mother, who (like her rabbit counterpart) had been a star athlete in her youth. Danielle never really took to sports for that reason, although she was intrigued by the emphasis on numbers. As a human child she mainly followed baseball just to keep up with batting averages, ERAs, etc. The actual games bored her.
Once here and transformed into a rabbit, she discovered the hunting competitions through Rudy. Hunting has a similar focus on numbers since the winner is determined through the size, weight and degree of difficulty of the prey. Danielle enjoys doing all that calculating in her head.
BTW, I’d like to clarify something about the town of Domain. Some of my human friends (Yes, I regard you as friends!) seem to think Domain is a big city, and others even believe it’s name of this planet...or universe! No, Domain is simply a small suburban bedroom community about ten to fifteen miles away from a big city. It’s part of a major metropolitan area, but it’s not significant in and of itself.
Except...that it’s home.