Wonderful creatures they.
And music connoisseurs.
Most people don’t know that.
Percussion is there thing (remember Thumper? Prince with the Swift Warning?) and sometimes they broaden their scope to other instruments.
Most often they tend to voice when they explore.
Sometimes, if one listens carefully, one can hear them harmonize when they vocalize.
Largely a capella, of course.
A long standing question here at Chez Carrabis is “What do we call the young ones?”
Consider: Our dog, Boo, is always called “Pup.” Okay, he’s also called “Boomeister,” “Mr. Boo,” “Bootosky,” and you get the idea.
And often, just Pup. So what did we call him when he was still a young thing?
Doglet, of course.
I’ve written of our Turklets.
And, of course, there are Rablets.
I last wrote of Rablets on Christmas Day 2020, so obviously they’ve been around for a while whether seen or not.
I wonder where they go when they’re not seen?
Do their numbers diminish such that there’s less competition for food so they have no need to forage in our yard? We’ve known for many years the local wildlife prefers our yard to our neighbors’ and suspect it’s because our yard is all natural, no artificial anything, no fertilizers, no pesticides, just life as life would have it.
Try it. See who shows up.
You might be surprised at what they have to teach you.
Susan’s rabbits are at it again.
Merrily munching away in our yard.
The rabbits are at the point where they stay out when Susan goes outside. She says hello to them.
Her perky little voice goes, “Hello, Bunnies.”
And they look up, turn an ear in her direction, go back to tender leaves and shoots.
I decided to relax with a Scotch and cigar.
Susan asked me to wait until the rabbits had finished their repast.
It’s always good to know one’s place in their household, don’t you think?
Susan‘s been at it again.
Her day isn’t complete unless she sees her rabbits – whom she calls “bunnies.” They don’t seem to mind when she says it. I say it, though, and …! – and see them she does.
And at all times of day and night.
I take Boo out for his late night easement and there’s a rabbit sitting on our front steps.
We walk around the block in the early hours and most lawns are bunnied.
Susan leaves swaths of lawn unmowed so the bunnies will have fresh green grass for their nibbling.
Except now, one bunny, is eating seeds. The ones that fall from the birdfeeders.
They’re not suppose to do that.
Susan, of course, wants to put out seed for the bunnies.
I suggested carrot seeds.
Ever hear a bunny laugh?
The Wild, as most know, loves music.
Music is loved because The Wild is full of music. Not just the calls of animals but their movement as well. Not just the wind in the trees but the leaves budding, the bark hardening, the sunlight nourishing. Not just the waters in their courses but the rocks they wash over, the paths they carve out.
And, of course, good tunes.
We’re always playing music and it’s fascinating to learn which critters like which music.
Rabbits, it seems, tend to pay attention to Billy Preston.
Don’t know why. Haven’t asked.
I appreciate their taste, though.
Long ago I would go out at night with my clarinet and alto sax. About five minutes playing in, eyes would ring from out of the woods. Soon I’d hear rustling as four-legged things hustled back and forth. Soon a coyote or two would come forward, then another, then another and another, and together we’d all sing.
I wonder if Billy Preston needs a partner?