Dad’s plan, it turned out, was to basically drive around the maze staying out of Mark Meadowvole’s way. He wanted to create a yes/no situation for the mouse in which one outcome would be to never see Aby again. If Mark did, in fact, love her, he would choose reconciliation. The relationship would either be saved, or it didn’t exist in the first place.
Dad could hear Mark’s Camaro come to a halt, meaning that in a face-saving gesture Mark was letting him win. Upon reaching the carrot Dad called Aby with the news.
Aby was just outside the maze and was there to meet Mark at the exit. At that point she offered to create a fund for families of prey lost to predators with the revenue from servicing the Herd Thinners, Inc. fleet of company vehicles. (The irony was so thick it showed up on the weather map.) Of course it will start small with just the immediate town of Domain, but that’s how all big ideas begin.
Meanwhile, the Beige U. genetics lab received a large grant from a mysterious source. (Guess who.) They strongly requested that I be put in charge of it, so suddenly I have both the funding and the school research lab’s resources to pursue my line of inquiry into the instinct loss issue.

Ms. Eyeshine’s relationship with the mouse ran off the road when he discovered that his parents had become prey several years ago during a Caliban Academy hunting match in which her brother Sam was the coach.
One can hardly blame him. It was a tragic episode, but legal under the rules of our society. The action was anonymous, and the field of play was clearly marked. Within its boundaries, anything is fair game. That doesn’t make it any less painful for the families of the victims, of course.
Still, I would hope that the mouse would find some forgiveness in his heart. Aby didn’t kill them, nor did her brother. He was the coach; not the actual predator. (Who was? It’s possible, of course, that it was Rudy. Or Fiona. I don’t have that information and I don’t want to ask.)
Last night Dad went to the mouse’s residence with a plan. I’ll report next week on how that went.
Meanwhile, here at Beige University the sad news was made official that our poisoned oak trees will not survive and will have to be replaced. The plan is to replant new trees. As part of that process, we were visited by university representatives this week, who know that we had recently replanted a living tree in the area, with success. They just wanted to know how the process went, and if there were any unexpected details that arose. We were able to answer everything to their satisfaction and they left feeling upbeat.

While back at home Kell struggles with the prospect of losing her best friend (or at least having to share her), I’ve been given access to everything the birds know about instinct loss and how humans affect it.
All along I’ve been researching it from a genetic standpoint, while the bird scientists saw it as a “disease” requiring a “cure.” It certainly seemed serious when the portal was thrown out of balance around the time of Danielle’s wedding, and species all over the world began losing their instincts.
Thing is, no disease spreads that fast, and there was no vector to explain it. It had to be something that all creatures already shared on a genetic level, and the presence of humans was simply a trigger.
Here at Beige I’m given free lab time as part of my master’s degree studies, so I’m able to pursue this line of research. The birds did accumulate a lot of data that I’m able to apply to my findings which are leading in some promising directions. Hopefully (for both worlds) I’ll be able to pin down to exact mechanisms in play.

While all this stuff is going on with dimensional portals and such, life goes on back in Domain. The news there concerns Kell’s feline friend Aby Eyeshine, who seems to have fallen for a mouse. Another possible pair for the Inter-Species Relationship Support Group!
It started back in October when Mark Meadowvole repeatedly brought his Camaro to Aby with suspension problems. Aby, out of professional pride, couldn’t figure out why her repairs kept failing. She followed him one night and found the reason: he and other mice were racing their vehicles around corn mazes.
This fired her competitive juices, and she offered her services to transform his machine into vehicle capable of making 90-degree turns in tight confines. She’s spent the last three months giving the car a radical makeover, and in the process she and Mark fell in love.
Last night was the big race, and Mark won after his rival Sam Sewerrat was DQ’ed for using a GPS to guide him through the maze to the cheese. Aby and Mark...celebrated.
As you may recall, Aby is officially married to her career. Some have wondered if this constitutes infidelity, but I happen to believe it complements her relationship to her auto repair business. It may, in fact, raise it to another level. At the very least it opens up a whole new client base: mice who would have never previously considered seeking help from a cat.

I must admit that I was surprised by the squirrel’s choice. Before dawn when Fenton and I were about to go to bed there was a soft knock at the door. It was the squirrel, and he said he was choosing to stay in the Wild. And here I had a name and identity all picked out for him.
Still, it was his wish so we’re abiding by it. Even so, I explained that being allowed to stay on this side of the portal comes with certain responsibilities. He understood that; he knows he doesn’t belong here and that his presence is a privilege.
The first responsibility is a homing tag. It’s embedded in his ear, and it’s unobtrusive. You have to be looking for it to see it, and then it appears to be jewelry. We strongly suggested that he stay in the vicinity of the university and he said he had no problem with that.
The other responsibility is to be on call when Ms. Aura or other human has to visit our world. He would cross over to provide balance, and stay on their ship as a human until it was time to return. That’s it. Other than that he’s free to live the life of a tree rodent.
He left, visibly happy. I was perplexed, but then Fenton reminded me about what he said about hanging around the university. I then realized how many squirrels we see all over the place. Perhaps...he’s found a pretty young she-squirrel with a lovely bushy tail?
After his departure I checked our bank account. I was surprised to see a significant deposit made by the Group, and I assumed it was for the year, but when I asked my condor contact he said we’d be getting one every month.

Fortunately Fenton and I aren’t big party goers, so neither of us were hung over when a five-bird delegation showed up on our doorstep. They were led by my previous NASA mentor, the condor, and presented us with our first assignment as members of their Group.
They started by saying they prefer the term Group over other labels. Apparently some refer to them as a conspiracy, which seems to wound them. While secretive, they certainly don’t see themselves as having nefarious designs. (And judging by the condition of their vehicles they don’t seem to be in it for the money.)
Our initial job seems well suited for us. The squirrel that I harbored for years with my two mice turned out to be a former human. They’ve confirmed his former identity, and are allowing him to stay here. (Apparently someone else is balancing his presence on the other side of the portal.) They’d like to keep tabs on him, so that when a member of the human Group comes over for some reason, he can make a temporary trip over to provide balance during that time.
I lost track of him after he asked to be released a while back, but he’s currently living wild in the vicinity of the college. Our job is to contact him and ask if he’s like to join civilization. He’d be much easier to track that way.
After the delegation left, Fenton and I went directly to the hollow tree he was using as a home/storage unit. He was suspicious to see us again, but then he was always like that. (Now I know why.) We gave him the offer; he’d just have to report to the Species Registry and the bureaucrats would do the rest. The Group has arranged for a job for him if he desires.
Like us, he has one week to decide.

It’s Christmas Day, and as I write this we’re snowed in due to the storm that paralyzed the university. Only idiots would go out in such weather, which is of course what Fenton and I did last night.
Long story short; the storm knocked out the power to the bee hive in the elm across the street. Since the elm is (somehow) connected to Tree, Tree was able to warn us and we got the bees over to our place before they froze.
To pass the time until their power returned they built wooden toys. Fenton and I took to the air in the middle of the storm, dodging gusts, freezing temperatures and owls. At the termite orphanage we dumped the toys down the chimney, giving the termite children a very happy meal.
The bees are now back in their warm home, and we’re ready to go to bed. We’ve sent greetings to our families back in Domain, and found a nice gift of honey from the bees. It’s been a pleasant respite from the drama involving Ms. Aura and her Group, which will pick back up next week. For now, however, we sleep.

After Catherine departed, Fenton relayed to me the memories of his time at MicroTalon. I wrote it all down as they kept flooding back to him.
We can’t corroborate it with the late Vin Vulpen, and his deer co-worker has long since vanished into the anonymity of the Wild, but Ray Flambeau is still around. We called him and Tammy, and it seems that Catherine had just left their lighthouse before heading out to sea (and presumably, to the portal). She’d left a check for the same amount she’d given Fenton, but without an explanation. We professed similar mystification.
Fenton could even recall some of the code he’d written at MicroTalon, that is now somehow keeping our predator/prey society from tearing itself to shreds. Eventually his memory arrived at the moment we rendezvoused with him in Redmond WA on New Year’s Eve. At that point all of the gaps were filled in.
That left the decision squarely in our laps. After going back and forth for the past week, we decided tonight that joining the Group was our destiny. My life, with its bizarre coincidences and events (an accident at sea throwing me as an infant through the portal, as if I’d been aimed at it), seems to have led me to this moment. Fenton supported the decision, and we accessed the URL given to us.
An innocent-looking page asked for a Username and Password, and we followed the instructions given to us by Catherine. Our laptop’s webcam activated, and we found ourselves face to face with a condor. I gasped in surprise; it was one of my instructors at NASA when I went up in the shuttle.
He greeted me warmly and welcomed us to the Group. Our printer sprang to life, and two QR code images appeared. We were to laminate them and carry them with us at all times. Scanning those from any Smartphone would immediately connect us with the Group.
I asked what happened next, and he said they were taking the holidays off and would get back to us in January. Until then their website would display a game for our amusement.
Yep. Angry Birds.

I’ll do my best to relate events clearly and concisely. It’s hard, however, when one’s world is turned upside down.
Ms. Aura arrived at our house alone, looking the same as ever in her black feathers. She insisted that as adults we call her Catherine now, and gave us a summary of her life as a human on the other side of the portal. She showed photos of herself and Nigel as humans, and her human husband Greg (the counterpart of the bear captain who married Danielle and George Fennec). More importantly to Fenton and myself were the pictures of her six-month-old child Ursala.
Ursala is human in every way, except for having bear fur and an ursine nose. No one, including me, understands the logic that accounts for both her and the human Francis. Perhaps the portal crossing causes a completely random element to enter one’s genes as they’re passed to the next generation.
That was only a warm-up to the main event: the revelation that birds not only control access to and from dimensional portals, but that they pretty much control...everything. Or else, they used to, until they enabled computers to keep our predator/prey society from spinning out of control. I was aghast, but there was more to come. Fenton suddenly got a blank look on his face, and then yelled at Catherine, “You held me hostage for months!”
Wide-eyed, he recounted to me how he, Vin Vulpen and Ray Flambeau had been forced to work at MicroTalon with a huge team creating that very computer system. Catherine confirmed everything and gave him a check for his back pay, with interest.
I was livid, recalling my mental anguish when I thought Fenton was dead, and even worse, when I thought he was alive and no one would believe me. I don’t often lose my temper, but I did then. Catherine accepted and acknowledged every drop of my fury as I unloaded on her.
Eventually it was Fenton who asked, “What now?” Catherine told us we were now full members of something she called the Group, which until now consisted entirely of feathered species. She provided a list of contacts and passwords to their inner circle.
We asked why she isn’t worried that we’d simply tell the world about their secrets. She said we were free to do so, but no one would believe us. (Coming from a couple of SF geeks like us, true.) Fenton asked about our human friends Nick and Ki. She said she didn’t know, but we could tell she was deeply concerned about something to do with them.
Then she was gone. We have one week to decide whether to join the Group. It’s going to take longer than that to screw my head back on straight.

Ms. Aura is on her way. Next week.
She’ll be a turkey buzzard again, and traveling alone without Nigel. I assume she’ll be asking for any further information I have about that squirrel, but I suspect that it will be more than that.
For the past few weeks I’ve doing research on her, and the less I find the deeper I dig. I’ve finally unearthed some files linking her to MicroTalon. It was shortly after that discovery that I heard from her; it was as if that action on my part raised an alarm of some sort.
Fenton and I never discuss MicroTalon, and not just because all our equipment is Carrot Computer-based. Years ago, he disappeared and was declared dead by everyone except me. He eventually resurfaced at MicroTalon headquarters of all places, with no memory of the intervening period, under some rather unusual circumstances that have never been fully explained. He’s never been able to piece together any recollections; just some vague disturbing feelings. I don’t want to upset him, so I don’t press him on the subject.
That may no longer be possible, which concerns me as Fenton’s well-being is my top priority. I’ve arranged that our meeting be in a public place, a loud restaurant near campus. I don’t know what to expect.

I feel lucky to be alive as I write this, although I'm getting ahead of my story.
It all started when we all received an invitation to attend a Thanksgiving feast in the underground rabbit warren. This was a special event because previously, rabbits had never had anything to be thankful for...until Kell took over Herd Thinners. That led to her employees never catching rabbits since they knew she was married to Dad and didn't want to offend her by catching in in-law...an echo of her own situation when she first married him.
Elanor stayed home to cook a real Thanksgiving meal, and the rest of us headed underground (escorted by Wendell) for a carrot-based dinner. The other purpose of the feast was the dedication of the new Great Hall, built to accommodate the booming population that was no longer being hunted.
Amid thousands of rabbits, Kell felt enormously guilty since she never gave any instructions to her staff to stop hunting rabbits; they did that on their own. She was feeling like a total fraud when an earthquake hit.
It was a 5.8, nothing that folks on the West Coast even break stride for, but a major event here on the Eastern Seaboard. It nearly had tragic consequences as the new Great Hall wasn't built to code, and began collapsing.
The rabbits (except for Dad and Gran...interesting) were frozen in fear. That's when Kell truly became a hero...by baring her fangs and scaring the multitudes out of their panicked state and toward the exits. Everyone had made it out when the ceiling came down.
Lawsuits aplenty are already being files against the construction company, but thankfully none of them will involve a loss of life. Meanwhile, Kell's status among rabbits is now genuinely deserved.

To my utter astonishment I received a message from a person I assumed I’d never hear from again: Catherine Aura. A series of Emails originating from anonymizing IP domains contained details that effectively established her identity to me...and also made it impossible to trace her. That would be difficult anyway, since she says that she and her son Nigel are now happily human and living on the other side of the portal.
She then requested my help in finding out the identity of the squirrel I kept caged for a number of years. A while back I released him as soon as he requested that I do so, and I hadn’t had any contact with him since.
Apparently it turns out that he’s a former human just like myself and Danielle. The portal is currently balanced due to a female kestrel who has crossed, but Catherine would still like to know the squirrel’s former identity in order to find out how he accessed the portal.
Neither myself nor the mice who shared the cage with him were able to offer much in the way of clues; he was very secretive. I gave all the information that I could.
Then I started investigating Catherine. I found...nothing. It takes a lot to make someone vanish in this day and age, and I’m beginning to put together a picture of an organization much more extensive than I’d thought. I’d assumed she’d belonged to a small cadre tasked only with guarding the portal and maintaining the balance between the two dimensions, but what if it’s larger than that?

Trouble often arises when one least expects it, and this week it came just after Dad switched lawyers. As I mentioned last week, he needed to find a new law firm after the old one raised its rates. An alternative presented itself in the form of the parents of Coney’s friend Lin, the Lees.
They’re tigers, unlike most lawyers who are of the aquatic persuasion. They both showed tremendous fortitude in gaining their degrees in an underwater habitat. The wife, Mei Li, will do most the Hare Link work.
Almost immediately, Dad was sued by a bear that he rebuffed in a hostile takeover attempt. Traditionally, any prey species is entitled to use whatever means necessary to defend themselves, but this bear felt that Dad shouldn’t have used his fists. (I think what Dad mainly wounded was his pride.)
His rather novel argument was that Dad’s use of fists violated the “original intent” of the Founding Fathers in the Constitution. What many people today use the original intent argument for is to justify their current positions, whatever that may be. However, what we're absolutely sure of is that the Founding Fathers wanted to create a living document that could adapt to changing realities. To this end, they brilliantly succeeded.
Mei Li came up with a clever way of getting the case dismissed, saying that the bear shouldn’t have used the judicial system to attack Dad. He skulked off to hibernate.

Hare Link has settled into a small, reliable existence as the ISP for Domain and its vicinity. It has a long-term contract to provide broadband service to the city government, and that seal of approval has led to a decent percentage of the local population using it for their hosting needs. Within its small pond it’s profitable.
Fenton and I still oversee its hardware and tech issues, which sometimes cause moments of panic but usually mean just regular maintenance. Our salaries allow us to have a higher standard of living than most of our fellow college students. (For instance, we’re free of student debt, for which we’re eternally grateful.)
Dad told me that one problem has arisen: the company’s legal arrangement. The law office of White, Mako, Hammerhead and Bull has been contracted by Hare Link since Dad started the ISP, but now their hourly rates have risen to the point where he can’t afford them any longer. (Having to drive all the way to the shore to meet with them is another expense!) But, a small business like Hare Link has to have some way of getting legal counsel, so what can you do?

In a small college town like Beige, Halloween is different from how it is in the suburban bedroom community of Domain. Back home, little kids prowl the streets from approximately five o’clock until nine, invading the normal sleepy routine of the neighborhood with their zombie-like candy demands.
(BTW, there was no Halloween celebration in the rabbit warren. Everyone down there is already ruled by fear throughout the year, so there’s no need of a special night to focus on it.)
Here at Bege, kids are in short supply and largely confined to the Family Housing Dorm which has its own self-contained Halloween parties. Otherwise, the offspring of university professors are the only ones going door to door with the classic trick-or-treating rituals, and sometimes I feel they’re all doing it ironically.
Nevertheless, we have our bowl of candy ready. Being nocturnal, we have to get up before we normally do in order to accommodate the first arrivals. Of course, the good news is that we still have that whole “day” ahead of us when it’s over.
I carved a pumpkin and stuck a number of my quills in it to make it look like me. I’m just not sure how to make one resemble Fenton.
Oops! There’s the doorbell!

Kell’s latest Herd Thinners initiative concerns the insectivores she hired in the spring. That strategy was a success, as it created a new revenue stream for the company in selling to those with my diet. The question was always, what happens in the fall when the insects die out? Instead of laying off the insectivores she’s established an extermination service to keep them employed.
Customers with an insect infestation (and who prefer not to eat the invaders) will call Herd Thinners and a crew of bats, shrews and hedgehogs will show up to devour the problem. A simple, elegant solution, and very much in a character for Kell.
Of course, there are many existing extermination services and they’re not happy, to say the least. Often, a new competitor in a market endures threats from the established entities. This is where the standard Herd Thinners employees come in, to provide protection for the insectivore staff. Nobody is going to argue with a wolf, especially one who is bored during the winter months after the herds have migrated.
Upon its announcement there were mixed reviews from the financial speculators, and the company’s stock fluctuated. However, it was a big success when it was finally rolled out, so as usual Kell had the last laugh.

Poor Rudy. Parasites are a constant presence for those of us with us fur, and it’s impossible to be completely free of them. What’s more, they’re a constant Greek chorus in our lives, endlessly commenting on our actions. It’s a good thing that few individuals take them seriously, as their advice is generally so far off-base as to be in another area code.
Non-furred species like reptiles and amphibians aren’t beset by them, and mammals with little fur are similarly protected. That includes elephants, rhinos, hippos...and humans. Granted, I only have a small sample group of one with Francis, but he does seem to lack a parasite colony. Of course, that’s also due to the excellent hygiene practiced by his mother Danielle.
For the rest of us, we do our best with regular flea dips. In Rudy’s case, his situation reached a tipping point when his parasites actually treated him as a legal residence to be bought and sold (and foreclosed upon). Their latest act of presumption was in hiring moths to devour his wardrobe and them to order clothing using their own atrocious taste.
Rudy ultimately foiled them again...for now. Personally, I think Fiona needs to be more proactive in encouraging Rudy to take better care of himself. As women, that tends to be our job.

It’s with great sadness that we mark the passing of Steve Lops, the legendary head of Carrot Computer. We here at Hare Link have always had a special connection to him and his company, dating back to this meeting. Ever since then we’ve used Carrot Computers for all of our ISP’s technology. (In many cases, of course, we put a PC partition on them since most of the customers who require tech support are PC users. Ahem.)
I won’t add to the already long list of obituaries that have been written in the past week. I just want to say that I hope Carrot continues on the path set by its visionary co-founder. I feel it’s currently in able and capable hands, since its new CEO is a graduate of Beige University.
In the meantime, Kell’s phone got hacked by her competitor Roadkill, Inc. (No, it wasn’t an iPhone!) Fortunately their attempt at turning her staff into roadkill failed, but it was still an unnerving episode. Dad got a new phone for her, and I installed some heavy-duty industrial grade security features.
Stay safe out there, everybody!

Ow. Damn chin-up bar.
In other news, Coney has given to Rudy the portion of the yard she’d been using as a garden under Gran’s tutelage. That had been part of Gran’s futile campaign to turn Coney toward the path of herbivorism, and for a while Coney had gone along just because she likes Gran’s company. Now, however, Rudy really needs that acreage to protect his trademark so Coney was perfectly willing to cede it to her big brother.
If Gran is smart, she’ll go All In in helping Rudy. The two of them, despite their obvious species differences, do have a kind of bond. They both have dystracksia, and they both have athletic talents. (The thinker Howard Gardner of the Multiple Intelligence theory calls it the Bodily-Kinesthetic talent.)
And yes, Mr. Gardner is a herbivore.
I’ve always been puzzled by Gran’s obsession with Coney, anyway. After all, she must know that Coney’s rabbit genes are, well, skin-deep. While her outward appearance is lapine, she has the teeth, digestive system and internal wiring of a wolf. Gran should have realized that by now, but I guess we have our blind spots.
Like, say, judging the proper height of a chin-up bar.

As I write this, Tree and the maple across the street are off on their honeymoon. Okay, they’re still rooted in place like always, but Tree has shut down her cognitive systems and left everything else on automatic. I’m not sure what that means, but somehow it’s tied in to some level of interconnection among the plant kingdom of which we’re not aware.
It all started early in the week when Tree announced that her root system was entangled with the maple’s so extensively that they were permanently bonded. That was her hint to stage a “tree wedding” and we played along.
Cassiopeia co-operated. Weddings among her species aren’t very festive and I could tell she enjoyed being part of the ceremony. We gathered under Tree and read passages from Joyce Kilmer. Fortunately, the Beige University hunting team co-operated by winning their match, and in celebration a crowd of students decorated Tree with toilet paper.
She looked beautiful in white.
Which gets back to the honeymoon. Tree said they’d be “gone” for a week and we must admit that we’re puzzled. There isn’t any kind of pollen exchange going on, and the photosynthesis and sharing of water at the root level go on all the time, so we can’t fathom what is so special. Odd, though...when the wind moves through her branches it sounds like Tree is contentedly sighing.

Once again, Kell surprised everyone. The last thing the feline cabal expected was for Kell to voluntarily resign, and they weren't prepared for it. By "prepared" I mean that they hadn't yet resolved who amongst them would be the one to rise to CEO, and when unexpectedly faced with that decision they turned on each other. No one knows what happened in that conference room, but one guesses that it resembled the final scene of "Reservoir Dogs" but with fangs and claws instead of dog drool.
None of the five felines survived, and Kell elevated their respective subordinates to their positions and placed Frank Mangle in charge of them all. The elimination of those most opposed to her strengthens her position to near unassailability...as long as RL and Angelique are happy with the price of Herd Thinners stock.
One wild card in the conspiracy was Madelaine Purr, who seemed to be part of the cabal until just months ago before dropping out for reasons that haven't been divulged. For some reason she was allowed to back out without consequence, while Frank Mangle endured much retribution for not joining in the first place. So, the book isn't entirely closed on this matter.

The parents went to Dragoncon last weekend, but not in costume. Of course, that didn’t prevent others from assuming they were in disguise anyway.
That fun day was a respite from the gathering storm clouds over Herd Thinners, as the conspiracy of felines against Kell is becoming more brazen. Frank Mangle has resisted joining them, and he’s paid the price for his loyalty. Things are rapidly coming to a head. Kell, who has made a point of reaching out to everybody, is up against an implacable group that cannot be won over through reason or negotiation. I hope she has a strategy; but then, she usually does.
Many people are doing 9/11 tributes today, including this one here. We had one on the first anniversary of those tragic events here.

After the storm passed, Tammy, Ray and Angstrom headed back to the coast on Monday. (Angstrom was disappointed to leave, as he’d been fascinated by the bees across the street.) While their lighthouse was built to withstand a storm as ferocious as Irene, many of their neighbors weren’t so lucky. Rebuilding has already begun.
This was all after Rudy discovered that herbivores actually enjoyed the vegetables he’d grown this summer to repay his debt to the rabbits. While I didn’t get a chance to try one, he’s probably correct in that their “taste” has something to do with having been grown by a wolf. Taste is a very subjective thing and can be influenced by qualities such as notoriety.
That meant some growers slapped Rudy’s name on their produce, and as a canine he was infuriated by such trespassing on his territory. The solution is even more disconcerting for him: He has to trademark his “brand” and then protect it by continuing to garden.
I suggested that he just grow awful-tasting food that no one would want, but he actually has too much personal pride to do that. In truth, I couldn’t either. Maybe my brother and I have more in common than we’ve thought.

We have three visitors staying with us; Tammy, Ray and their son Angstrom. They normally live in a lighthouse on Cape Qualm, but the word came to evacuate when Hurricane Irene came barreling up from the Bahamas. Tammy texted me that they had no place to evacuate to, and I immediately invited them to stay with us for a few days.
They arrived Friday morning, and Fenton and I got them settled in to the guest room. Tammy and Ray shared the bed and Angstrom slept on the futon. Being nocturnal, all five of us went to bed and slept all day until evening.
We kept a close eye on the storm which hit Cape Qualm as a Category 2 but was soon downgraded to a 1. By all indications the lighthouse came through Saturday in good shape but we won’t ready know until they return home on Monday. Meanwhile, we’re still following the storm’s path up the Eastern seaboard.
Little Angstrom is growing up fast. He was fascinated by the bees across the street, and even stayed up a little during the daylight hours to watch them pollinate my flowers. I realized that at the lighthouse he doesn’t have much social contact, which is the whole basis of the bee community.
Next week I’ll give you the details of the aftermath of Rudy’s garden!

Gran and Elanor were under the mistaken assumption that creating their respective family scrapbooks would be easier if they worked together. It became readily apparent that they each have different impressions over what constituted a “scrap.”
The most interesting thing about the afternoon was when Gran was treated to the story of Kell’s first kill; a skunk. It’s been part of our family lore for a while; I got to hear it shortly after Dad and Kell married. It’s usually told in parallel to Dad’s first solo foraging of stinkweed, illustrating how in each case personal pride took precedence over one of the five major senses.
Here at Beige, classes start Monday. The campus is in full swing as the students are undergoing the stress of moving back. It’s when Fenton and I really, really appreciate Tree; we can focus on preparing for our classes without any other hassles.
The lab has opened as well, and this year I have my own office. As usual I’ll handle the nocturnal observations of various experiments going on. I’m taking three courses as I continue my Masters Degree program.
What's been the favorite course that you've taken in college?

Kell’s natural instinct is to choose cooperation over conflict, but there are some felines at Herd Thinners to whom “compromise” is a dirty word. They’re Kell’s sworn enemies, and they’ll do anything they can to bring her down, even if it takes the company down, too.
Dealing with them will be Kell’s biggest challenge. Speaking of challenges, there won’t be an official one since Kell now has allies who have pledged to come to her defense in a direct fight. No, the feline cabal is looking to undermine her behind the scenes.
I hope she has something up her sleeve. Frank Mangle is a feline who is on her side (because she saved his life), but it might be that the conspiracy will target him first. Stay tuned.
Closer to home, an elk used its claws to scrape Tree’s bark. The vandalism turned out to be a QR (Quick Response) code that actually connects to a website.

Coney’s returned from camp, and Dad reports that she’s as happy as he’s ever seen her. Kell’s relieved just to have her back safely, a feeling that I’m sure is shared by Wendell’s mother. Coney is already insisting on returning next summer and it sounds as if Kell has very little say in the matter.
I just realized that by living two hours away I’m missing Coney growing up. I was there as she progressed through infancy and toddlerhood, but now that she’s become a vocal presence in the family I’m not around. Or, has she been able to blossom because I’m not there? I realize that I’ve experienced a lot of drama during that time and I may have overshadowed her.
(Fenton just said there’s no topic I can’t twist around to feel guilty about. True.)
At any rate, Coney has become a loyal, devoted friend, an instinctive protector of those unfairly threatened and still a predator of almost legendary talents. She’s going to have an interesting life.
Meanwhile, here at Beige there are signs of life as the campus slowly stirs in preparation for fall semester. The support staff is arriving, which will be followed by the faculty and finally the students. To you college students, when do your classes start?

It turns out that our cousin Wendell Luckyfoot, who has caused such problems for Rudy during his Easter duties, ran into Coney while running away from the protection offered by the Herbivore Camp. By encountering her first, he truly is living up to his last name.
Hearing stories about Wendell makes me think of Dad. Both are rabbits who seem to lack the fearfulness and caution endemic to the species. The common factor they share, of course, is Dorothy Kindle, a.k.a. Gran.
During my research into Domestication I ascertained that there was only rabbit DNA in Dad’s genetic profile, so that eliminates the possibility that the trait is of a non-rabbit origin. Instead, this appears to be a hereditary personality quirk.
That said, there are big differences between Dad and Wendell. As a child, Dad was never, well...as “in yer face” as Wendell is. If this quirk is hereditary, it’s getting more pronounced with each generation.
It also begs the question, where did Gran get it from? (She’s 100% rabbit as well, BTW.)

It’s awfully quiet here at Beige. This being a university town, summers here are abnormally still. Even with some students attending summer semester it’s nothing like the energy one feels the rest of the year. Temperatures in the upper 90s don’t help, as everything slows down. (Advantage Of Being Nocturnal #583: Sleeping through the hottest part of the day!)
Fenton attends class and does remote maintenance on the Hare Link servers, and I spend my nights at the lab helping on experiments that require 24/7 attention. Married a year, and we’ve already settled into a routine.
True to her word, Cassiopeia has kept the noise down from the bees under her. That’s a huge relief, as we’d have a difficult time getting back to sleep in the daytime heat if the buzzing was constantly waking us. They’re pollinating our flowers and collecting nectar, so everyone’s happy. Tree...tolerates them. I suppose Tree is grateful that they’re taking good care of the maple they inhabit.
So I suppose the big news is that Kell has allowed Coney to attend Predator Camp with Lin Lee. Rudy reports that Coney sees it as a grand adventure, and Kell is climbing the walls with worry. No surprise; Coney has already won the Camp’s highest honor in having the head of her prey placed on a stick at the main clearing. She’s now Lord of the Flies.

Every now and then something happens to remind us that Coney isn’t a baby anymore, but a four-year-old with definite opinions of her own. She’s always been quiet, but at the Happy Little Predator preschool she’s discovering her voice. Her tiger friend Lin may be playing a role in that.
Lin definitely figured in the latest development, when Coney came home demanding that she attend Predator Camp after hearing about it from her friend. Lin will depart next week, and Coney insists on going along. For the first time, Kell doesn’t have a compelling reason to say no.
Poor Kell. I know she hates the idea of sending her littlest one into the woods, no matter how competent the camp counsellors are at protecting their charges and keeping them out of genuinely dangerous situations. The idea is for young carnivores like Coney to learn hunting techniques in a controlled setting that mimicks the Wild without the actual risks. Still, Kell is hesitant.
She’s always feared that Coney, to all outward appearance a cute baby bunny, will let down her guard and be taken as prey. All evidence points to the contrary, but Kell is correct in that it only needs to happen once. So, she’s protective.
We’ll see what happens. I got all this from Rudy, who asked if I’d even gone to Insectivore Camp. I replied that in mid-July, every camp is Insectivore Camp.

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.

Hi, I’m back, and I’d like to thank Fenton for filling for me last week. Moving on...
Coney is beginning to make friends outside of the family. There’s Francis, of course, and some prey species that enjoy her protection, but at the Happy Little Predator Preschool her best friend is a tiger cub named Lin Lee. Coney asked Kell if Lin could spend the night, and Kell was delighted. However, Lin mother’s apparently rejects all such invitations.
That’s her prerogative, of course, but Coney was disappointed. Lin had been given a heavy workload outside of the school, with no time for play. To her credit, Coney saw a way around the problem by offering herself as “prey” and allowing Lin to complete the letter of the assignment. Lin was able to come over to the house for a play date for an hour until Kell drove her home.
Kell Googled Mrs. Lee and found something revealing. She wasn’t an actual tigress, but a tabby cat with tiger-like markings. Through sheer force of will she’d become a tiger by adopting the behavior of that species to such an extent that the Species Registry had no choice but to grant her Reclassification Request as such. She eventually married a tiger, settled in Domain and gave birth to Lin.
I know all about the ability to change one’s species. It’s one of the great things about this country.

Fenton here. I’m having to write this because the major thing that went on last week involved something that my lovely wife couldn’t possibly comment on: her parents’ sex lives. Every time she sat down to compose her blog she would turn beet red and finally curl up on the sofa in a fetal position.
(I made up that last bit, but she was still really bothered.)
Due to her sense of decorum conflicting with her devotion to truthfulness, I was convinced to write about it. Of course I complied...reluctantly.
It seems that March is when rabbits (both male and female) are seized by hormones that compel them to...frolic. In past years Kell has particularly enjoyed frolicking, but now that she’s the CEO of the multinational corporation she has very little free time. Usually she comes home late and immediately falls asleep, leaving Kevin to carry her to bed.
Finally, one morning Kevin simply told Kell’s limo driver Wally to take the day off. When Wally arrived, Kell was distracted by Aby while Kevin got into the vehicle. Kevin drove Wally home and returned to the house where Kell got in the back seat. I can only imagine what happened when Kell realized who was really driving the limo.
And I can imagine a lot of frolicking.
See, Lindesfarne? That wasn’t so bad.

Kell verbalized her grand vision for Herd Thinners, Inc. Hiring insectivores to market a new product line was only the first step in a larger strategy. She would like the company to be involved in the entire food chain, not just large predators going after large prey.
This has all the risks involved in any corporate culture change, and all the benefits that would accrue to one firm dominating every segment of the food market. I’ll give her credit; she doesn’t think small.
Her motivation isn’t just for the company’s bottom line, although that would surely benefit if she’s successful. She’s always been uncomfortable with some of the firm’s predatory practices, which encouraged the staff to bring down prey that was sick. During her own hunts she made it a point to have her battles be a fair fight as she targeted young, healthy herbivores, which meant that the meat she brought in was always of a higher quality than anyone else’s. (This made her a favorite of her superiors, and led to her being in the room when Frank Mangle challenged R.L., and...Well, you know the rest.)
She’d like that fairness to become company policy, and for it to being common practice. We’ll just have to see.
Meanwhile, for the second time in two weeks a major earthquake has struck the Pacific “Ring of Fire.” Red Cross relief info for Japan can be found here.

Last week the maple tree across the street officially opened for business as a honey factory, with a swarm of bees making the most awful racket. It was incessant, and it kept Fenton and I up all day and night. It turns out that what we assumed to be an industrious, hard-working species was basically just a den of frat house debauchery, and the honey was a "byproduct" of their partying.
I went over to complain, and was rewarded with a dose of super-strength nectar that left me with a hangover the next morning. Tree tried to use her connection to the maple to turn down their music, to no avail.
Tree then made a misstep by calling a bear that simply wanted to kill the bees and take their honey. We don't want to go that far! For a few uncomfortable moments we wondered if the bear had gone through with it, but the bees had just become dormant due to the smoke from our outdoor grill.
I felt bad and began planting a flower garden as a goodwill gesture. We were visited by Cassiopeia, who is the hive Queen. She was visibly taken by our decision to plant flowers expressly for them, and vowed to let us sleep during the day. So far she's been as good as her word.
That's how things stand. The only main sore point now is with Tree, who detests flowers of all kinds.
What your favorite type of flora? (For non-herbivores, which do you think is the most attractive?)

Even living on the other side of the planet, Candace Canid has continued in her position as tech support for Hare Link. Fenton and I have tried to make her job as easy as possible, by constructing an online infrastructure for our ISP that’s as bulletproof as possible. She’s then able to use her innate Border collie herding skills to guide callers to the solution of their problem, which usually turns out to be located between the monitor and the chair. Her real talent, though, is being kindly and supportive while guiding them to that conclusion. She enjoys her work, and allows her to stay connected to the world while she raises her adopted sheep daughter.
Her husband works at WETA, which is about to begin filming “The Hobbit” (Finally!) The offices are located in Wellington, which is on the North Island. On Tuesday, a devastating earthquake hit Christchurch, which is on the South Island. The Canids weren’t physically threatened, but the whole of the country felt the emotional impact.
WETA has offered its support, and is raising money for earthquake relief. Candace asked me to post this link on my blog, and I’m more than happy to. Go here.