mating season

So if I was a smart person, I would have done some research before coming here and maybe I would have discovered that I was arriving to a farm during prime mating season. Oh yes, the birds and the bees and the chickens and the goats and the ducks...

This could also explain the onslaught of overamorous neighbour boys coming past the house on the daily, courting me with everything from promises of homemade tortellini farci con funghi porcini to cigarettes and beer. I don't mean to sound conceited. Really, I even find myself head over heels twitterpated every time I'm greeted with, "Ciao, bella." (Which is what everyone says, to everyone.)

Back to the farm. One of the rabbit families had grown too big for its hutch so we moved them into a larger wire cage. I was cleaning out their old hutch when Suzie said thoughtfully, "I think she's ready to be pregnant again."
I watched, frozen in horror and alarm as she lifted up Momma Rabbit by the ears and dropped her into Daddy Rabbit's hutch. No lobster dinner, no candles and music, not even the classic, "hey, uh, you wanna come upstairs and watch a dvd?" I was too disturbed to peel my eyes away but I wish I had. Suzie watches patiently and explains she prefers them to at least try three times.
Momma Rabbit is unceremoniously moved back to her hutch. I quickly run and cut up as much fresh grass and thistle for the poor woman and then exit the scene asap.


-------------------------------------



The next apartment I will be living in doesn't have internet access like it does here, so this coming week I probably won't have much opportunity to email and update.