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something mighty odd about this grass...yes. but that's not the sort of thing you say to your leader, the BIG PIG. you say instead, yes, sir capt. beans, we'll get samples to the lab, run some tests, we'll find out what this stuff is, and what it's doing. we'll know everything about it...and we'll know it soon... he won't be satisfied, naturally...because to have something like this happen means someone wasn't careful in the first place. heads will roll! or not. depending on the grass. oh orchard grass, how you do perplex us!
three heads of three interstellar g-pigs are close together working on the grass problem. the grass is oblivious to the serious study going on around it. happy, or seeming so it continues to wave cheerfully, unapologetically. first botanist, Pinto Beans, checks out the scope...the cellular structure is different, busy, altered from the original plant. this is a whole new species...and it's only been weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds. botanist number two, Garbanzo Beans, is working with an intact specimen, noting its responses to stimuli: attracted to light, movement, heat. Garbo gulps as she adds to her report, "grass seems...friendly." the BIG PIG is NOT going to like that. botanist number three is tired, exhausted...hungry...not thinking straight. botanist number three, Kidney Beans (aka, 'you'vegottabekidneybeans') unconsciously volunteers to BE a guinea pig and doh, eats his sample. Garbo and Pinto turn to him in horror. "What HAVE you done?" they chorus in a shrill, terrified wheek. is this the end of you'vegottabekidneybeans?
Black Beans uttered a commanding sort of "WHEEK!" which brought all of the g-pig spacers running (or, more accurately, waddling at an alarming clip). "WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS?" he bellowed. *This* was a whole bench of orchard grass madly waving in what appeared to be a gentle breeze. however, there was no breeze. the dancing grass rippled, it swirled. sometimes the whole bench moved in concert, as if to unheard music. at times, each blade oriented itself independently from the rest. every other plant in the greenhouse was still. round g-pig eyes regarded the grasses with wonder. in every container, without fail, the potting compound was gone, having been completely absorbed by the grasses. three botanists crept forward and examined the grass. three grass tendrils reached out to greet them, curling grasses touched quivering noses. the grass was curious.
Meanwhile...speeding through time and space the interstellar g-pigs were busy in their hydroponic garden - pollinating this and that, growing their own banquet of garden variety delights, running tests, munching... when the head gardener (who was also the captain of the ship), the one, the only, BIG PIG on deck, Black Beans, made a startling discovery...
"i'm sorry pyong," i said, after I got my laughter under control, "you're right. there will be time enough for existentialism, angst, etc. once we've figured out what we can do." she was starting to look smug, so i added, "but i still think biting people is a waste of time." she flattened her ears and stuck out her tongue at me. the tongue thing was new. she must have picked that up from the tv. "nice, that's a good look for you." she huffed and turned away.
i soon had her attention again as i considered the door to our cage. we are housed in a large dog crate - a metal one with a plastic removeable tray. the door to the cage swings out when it opens, and is held closed by a simple mechanism that slides into place then folds down to lock it. all i had to do was stand on my hind legs and reach a forepaw through the cage bars to reach the lock. i was easily able to slide it back, and the door immediately swung open. easy-peasy. pyong pricked up at this, smiled at me briefly (and mostly with her eyes), then hopped out into the main room. this was progress.
pyong pyong is an all over pale brown doe with a cream colored undercoat. at various times during the year she develops darker brown patches on her nose, ears, and feet. she's part dwarf rabbit, and thus very petite, but she wasn't blessed or cursed (depending on how you look at it) with the mini dwarf rabbit ears. she's very territorial when she's at *home* (home being caged), and will attack anything, except me (powder). she's very feisty. she's also a bit more adventurous than i am. i will generally follow in her footsteps, but she is always the first one on the scene and the first one to make a scene. she's kind of irritable, and is never one to let the moment pass when she's got something to say. i mean, we're probably in for some trouble now that she can say exactly what's on her mind. because chances are, she's going to.
what to say about myself? i have been described as the "most beautiful bunny in the world." (believe me, that doesn't do much for my machismo.) but i think i'm more goofy than lovely. have you ever seen a dutch rabbit? there are dutch other kinds of animals too, guinea pigs, pig pigs, rats (i think). a *good* dutch has a sort of colored mask with a white blaze. the white area generally extends down the neck and chest and forepaws, then the colored area takes over again about midway on the torso the finishing touch is usually white toes. so dutch rabbits generally look like Zorro (sans sword/cape), masked, white shirt, colored pants, white...uhh, socks. i am a sloppy dutch. my blaze takes over half my face, just under left eye and dribbles under my chin like a lacey scarf at my throat. the rest of me is gray, except for a tiny patch of white just behind my ears. i'm what's known as a "blue" dutch, but the only blue thing about me is my eyes. i'm pretty easy going, but hate being scooped up or cuddled. i'm affectionate in a being near kind of way. if i like you, i'll hang out closeby. if not, good luck tracking me down, i'm probably under the couch (or chewing up your shoes).
both pyong and i are very curious and like to get into things. for the record... SHE started it, not me.
that's rabbits, tho, for ya. very straightforward, right to the crux of the matter kind of creatures. i mean, we *seem* subtle because we're so quiet, but let us out into the world, and we make our needs, wants known - generally in the only way we can - biting. it was good to have a vocabulary that wasn't so...reliant on teeth.
conversation was surprisingly easy to master...
"she's gone," pyong-pyong whispered. we listened to her footsteps recede across the porch and down the stairs.
"did you bite her again?" i asked, annoyed.
pyong had the decency to look somewhat ashamed, "yes..." she was quiet for a moment, then, "well it's not like she minds. she doesn't even care. i may have a voice now, but my teeth are exactly the same - crooked and ineffective."
"you're going to have to get over this. you know, overcome this territorial thing you've got. it's a problem, and it's a waste of time."
pyong narrowed her eyes and wrinkled her nose at me before huffing, "oh, yeah, as if that's the biggest thing we have to worry about." she hopped around me in a circle and pushed me with her nose, "in case you didn't notice, powder, we can TALK. and in addition to that, we can THINK, too. now, you've been sitting over there having your existential crisis - talk about a waste of time!" she thumped her exclamation point.
I rolled back on my heels, shaking, and suddenly amused...my first chuckle rumbled in my throat moments later. not 30 seconds into our first conversation, and we were having our first argument. what does THAT say about bunny kind, eh?
a fluke? not likely. but we couldn't test it until we were alone. unenhanced rabbits have few vocalizations - some grunts, and an eerie heart-stopping scream if our hearts are bursting with adrenaline and fear. pyong-pyong is actually quite "chatty" as rabbits go - she snores, and she does a good impression of the monica selles tennis grunting whenever she pounces. sounds sort of like, fffvvvvvt! yes, we do pounce. myself, rarely; pyong-pyong every morning at breakfast time - she bites the hand that feeds.
i was thoroughly depressed. i stretched out on my side, and buried my nose between my forepaws. pyong-pyong nudged me in a comforting way, but i couldn't stop all of the strange thoughts. i didn't know what to DO with myself. Even our person noticed. She was making vet noises, which I failed to observe, so deep was i in my funk. as a result, both pyong-pyong and i were treated to a session of excessive and unnecessary poking and prodding as a veterinarian tried to determine why I was off my feed. when we were home again, i resumed my morose posture. pyong was beyond annoyed with me by this point..."what's wrong with you?" she asked, peeved. she shook her head and her ears flopped back and forth in irritation. then her eyes widened in surprise, and she crouched down next to me. it was the first time one of us had spoken aloud...ever.
our enlightenment, our encarcelation gave us plenty of time to question our existence, our purpose, our motivations. what does it mean to be rabbit? to hear with long ears? to twitch soft nose? to leap and twist? nibble on everything? the world is my...chew toy. what does it mean to be a "pet?" to live among people who aren't rabbit-kind, and have this odd...relationship with them? what is our bond? humans provide food, rabbits provide...companionship? entertainment? the cuteness factor?
human people are interesting...confusing. before we became other, we did not care to understand them. we did not care to understand much. the best of times were carrots in the backyard, feet deep in the grass, sitting in the shelter of bushes, or with a wall to our backs. somewhere with a good view, but not too open. a spot of earth where we could dig. still, we were never wild, really. we had no street smarts, wilderness smarts, if you will. just.dumb.bunnies.
existential crisis ensued.
awakening changes the world forever. becoming something other allows you to see more of it. i think of the last unicorn becoming human and learning regret -- something an immortal being, a being outside of time had never previously known. because time does not contain such a being, it is free in the sense that it never has to worry about accomplishing something in a given amount of time. and then, also, unicorns are born good, wise, carefree -- what could they ever do and regret later on? it took being something other than a unicorn to learn more about the rest of the world, and the ephemeral beings living in it. being ephemeral is stressful for the ephemeral beings who have enough brain capacity to understand that they don't have all the time in the world to figure out what it is they ought to do. and combined with that is knowledge that they can choose, can make decisions, and can come to question those choices and decisions at some other time. how odd, how frightening, how revolutionary to go from existence, "I am," to awareness of a place in the world, "who am I (in the context of...all of THIS)?"
it happened slowly as we nibbled that strange, delightful grass. odd thoughts, feelings occurred. language spoken around us began to take on meaning, though we did not develop the capacity to speak for a long time. although our intelligence and our capacity for understanding increased, the fact that we were not able to speak, and were limited by our bodies to some extent (and by cages for some of the time) meant that during our dangerous "adolescence" we couldn't do anything too stupid or uncharacteristic. we were able to grow into our new selves gradually, and as we grew smarter, we also grew wiser.
so imagine a sort of Flowers for Algernon awakening... at first your only thoughts are basic, species specific, survival oriented...eat, drink, run, find warmth, find shelter, reproduce. these drives remain. but your consciousness begins to stir (the sleeper must awaken!). You begin to see the way you were as a sort of dullness, and things you had barely perceived or never understood come into sharp relief, startle you when you make sense of them. human beings as babies are much like this -- learning language, becoming familiar with the world gives them new ways to categorize and define their experience. soon they can talk about it, and soon they can't remember ever being another way. because the world used to be something that was experienced viscerally; there was no language to describe it. and they never know if there was something important, something overlooked during those slow, dreamy times, floating in the waters of the womb, coming into the world for the first time.
having feasted, collected their samples, the interstellar g-pigs waddled back into their craft and shortly revved up and disappeared into the sky. the crickets paused a moment while all of this was going on, then resumed their song when the world was quiet, save for the rustling of the grass, once more. the grass continued to rustle, continued to grow, began to change slowly as it absorbed the Cavvy potting soil compound. its outward appearance did not alter, but it became somehow more nourishing...and the molecular structure of the grass itself became more organized, more complicated, and yet, more stable. the small field thrived. a couple of weeks passed and farmers cut it, dried it, packed it into 15oz and 9lb bags which were sold to petshops, individuals, veterinarians across the country. oh that tasty nebraskan orchard grass.
fresh cut grass smell mixed with dew and chilled to 50 degrees (farenheit)... summery night. enormous alien guinea pig creatures (putting the closest thing -- capybaras -- to shame) munching on the same... pleasant whirrs and churrs... no wheeks... everyone is content. they're making a pit stop on their way across the universe. so many grassy places to see and chew on, so little time. they've been here before, but never to this field, never feasted on such grass. this grass like no other has hints of apples, clover, exotic spices, grass -- of course. it's plump, juicy. long blades rustle in the wind like a cricket's whisper. they must take a sample, they must collect some for the journey - see if it will grow on their home planet, in their home soil. while all races have master botanists, sometimes they need inspiration, and interplanetary travel makes plant collecting a hobby/profession that can stretch across the galaxy. oh woe if our orchid fanatics ever discover the hyperdrive (or the improbability drive!). the interstellar guineapigs (really hadn't been my intention to make this pun, but since I have...let me give some credit to William Sleator who wrote 'Interstellar Pig' and 'Parasite Pig' -- neither of which has anything to do with real pigs or guinea pigs) have been making trips like these for many years, they are experts, but their movements are clumsy this evening -- perhaps the grass has drugged them in some way. the containers of soil from Cavvy, their home planet, spill their contents over the field. alien terra-not-so-firma mixes with earth topsoil, strange fertilizers, organisms, minerals never before seen on the blue-green world. they don't seem to notice. don't think poorly of them for being caught up in the moment, drunk on orchard grass, feeling fat and sassy, being over eager. if you'd tasted it, you would have been swept up in the moment, the sensations, the splendour of the grass.
the alien spacecraft touched down in the middle of the quiet nebraskan field of orchard grass (new product in the line of hays/grasses for small animals). Surprisingly few trees around for it being called "orchard" (yo, where're the trees?) grass, but I guess we don't have to think too much about that. The stars were bright freckles on the shoulders of night...the moon had just slipped behind some wayward cloudcover, and the extraterrestrials were emerging from their ship.
large and covered in somewhat bristly hair, they slowly waddled down the ramp. their eyes were dark and secret - only visible when reflected starlight caught them unguarded. Their noses were ceaselessly inquisitive - highly developed olfactory senses that could catch even the faintest whiff for miles around. They moved on four short limbs, with four toes on each front foot and 3 on each of the back. Soft whirrs and churrs issued from them as they began exploring the field. "it's been so long," one cooed. the others nodded and began to graze on the orchard grass itself.
perhaps you are wondering about these attack rabbits (or perhaps not!)... they were quite normal rabbits (with quite normal attacking behaviors) when they first came home with me. but after a fluke incident involving an online purchase of hay, crop circles, and a thwarted alien invasion, they became... THE attackrabbits.
pyong pyong attacked several times, but it was only karin. those female rabbits, very territorial in general... i'm much more laid back. favorite thing in the world is taking a huge leap, then twisting mid-air so i come down facing another direction. race off under the couch and into attack position!
i'm wiggling my toes, stretching my legs. it's snack time and i'm a bundle of energy!
a strange person entered the room - smelling like no one i had experienced before...
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