Tuesday, June 26, 2012

The Cute and The Fluffy

This is Tarquin. Yes, there is a rabbit under all the cuteness. I know, I know, he looks a bit like Twisk. It's been a great comfort to me though the reason he's here is very sad. Tarquin and Grainne (Graw-nya) a red French Angora doe came to live on the farm because their owner passed away. Tarkie is a sweetie who lets me cuddle him like a baby . . . remind you of anyone??? Grainne is his exact opposite. I have to wear gloves and move fast when I need to get in her cage. She attacks me and has bitten me several times though with the gloves she can't do much damage. All that rigorous training St. John has given me in bite avoidance maneuvers is coming in handy. That's precisely why Grainne is here . . . her owner wanted her cared for by someone with experience, who would know how to handle her. That's probably the first time I've had a reason to be glad about St. John's disposition. On the positive side, did I say she was red? Grainne makes Reindeer Station Farm officially patriotic, the home of red, white, and blue rabbits! There may be a yarn in that, a three-ply red, white, and blue yarn. Hmmmm . . . will have to give that some thought.

Next time . . . even more cuteness. I have finally gotten close enough to the fawns to snap pix of them together. They are up and romping around the meadow. The UPS man wanted to know if I was raising deer. Well, this is ReinDEER Station Farm . . . But that will have to wait until next time, when I can see straight. I have been writing all day trying to catch up on my quota which was derailed for a bit by Tarquin and Grainne. And even later I may explore some Beatrix Potter art which I have been gorging on like a starved wildebeest. If I do not find time to sit down and play with my paints soon I shall not be responsible for my actions.

This will not surprise anyone who knows me, but incidentally their names weren't Tarquin and Grainne when they came here. They were called Christopher Robin and Pepper. Which got me to thinking . . . there's not a beast on the place who has their original name unless they were born here. And when I finish writing my current book I think I'll hold a contest to see if anyone out there can match everyone's original name with the name I gave them. Gotta think of some awesome prizes . . .