(Note: My sister Suraga has written up her take on this very same subject. 6 Days With Fawn, on her blog Suraga's Stories, has not been published yet; I will update this page as soon as she publishes it.)
PREFACE
PREFACE
This blog has been neglected for just over 2 years. Why? A combination of not having enough time, forgetting all about this blog, and not finding anything to write about. Welll...I've now jumped those hurdles since:
- I'm on summer vacation.
- I've been reminded of this blog.
- And I have a great story to write about.
Before we start, I'd like to offer you a quick update on what's happened between July 3, 2013 (the date of the last post on this blog, "The Best and Worst Rides in Great America") and now. You can skip ahead to the next section if you don't want to read the below paragraph.
I'm 12 years old (!) now. I'm still a full-time student at the local community college (Foothill College in Los Altos Hills, CA) but I'm looking to transfer to the University of California-Santa Cruz before I turn 13. My sister Suraga (who was "four and a half" when we last met) is now "six and a half." We have pulled her out of the dictatorial private school she was attending back then; she is now a student at the Children's School of Art and Science, a 19-student-strong homework-free idealistic utopia for self-expression and liberty and equality and fraternity and etc. etc. etc. (Remember this information: it will play a large part in the adventures below.) Suraga loves her school and is returning for a second year (as a 2nd grader).
INTRODUCTION
In a nutshell: Fawn, the rabbit pet of Suraga's schoolfriend, has been bequeathed to us for 5 days while the owners are off on a cross-country road trip.
The longer version: Fawn is a tawny female cottontail rabbit (Sylvilagus floridanus) belonging to Sophia and Mateo Timpson, the children of the principals/founders/teachers/Education Directors at Suraga's school (see update in Preface). Naturally, Mateo and Sophia are also students at the school.
When the Timpsons decided to take a cross-country road trip, they appealed to the families of students to take care of Fawn. They were going for 5 weeks, and we decided to volunteer for the 3rd week. We simply added our names in a spreadsheet, and that was that: Fawn was ours.
Now, let's meet our cast of characters:
FAWN: The star of this piece. As above, she is a tawny female cottontail rabbit (Sylvilagus floridanus) and pet of the Timpsons. Prone to fright (from traveling in a moving vehicle, from being stared at by people, from our ill-fated attempts to catch her and return her to her cage), running off, and believing that our garden is a salad bar. Surprisingly does not like carrots and rabbit food.
HARI CHAKRAVARTHULA: Father of the author. Drove Fawn to our house and helped set up her enclosure. Helped recapture the rabbit on the occasions in which she has roamed free in our backyard.
HIMABINDU DHARMAVARAM: Mother of the author. Helped set up Fawn's enclosure and found the rabbit after Fawn's disappearing act on Days 2 and 3.
ALEX LIANG: Student in Suraga's school. His family took care of Fawn in the week before we did. Showed us how to replace Fawn's bedding.
SHREYES NALLAN: The author. (I don't need to tell you about me, do I? - If you do want to know about me, go to the update section in Preface.)
SURAGA NALLAN: Sister of the author. Lover of nature and biggest fan of Fawn the rabbit. (To know more about her, go to the update section in Preface.)
DAY 0 What happens before Fawn gets here?
It's Saturday, July 11. The Liangs' 2nd shift taking care of Fawn ended yesterday. So why are we still Fawn-less? Short answer: Paranoia.
The irrational fear in question stemmed from a email written by Julia and Sophia Timpson (Fawn's original owners). The mail itself was fine, but my mom's interpretation of it was not. She construed it to mean that:
a. Fawn could not be on the grass
b. Fawn needed a 100% shaded area
c. Thus, there was absolutely no place in our entire backyard (or porch) for the rabbit and so we couldn't take care of it properly and therefore we can't get the pet....
On Friday, my mom called up Jing (Alex's mom) and declared that she didn't really need Fawn and that Jing should keep the rabbit in the home for another week. Maybe we would, uh, er, get a rabbit later or something...
We probably never would have gotten the rabbit if I hadn't asked my mom why we hadn't picked up Fawn yet. She replied that she was insecure about bringing Fawn home and blah blah blah, but me and Suraga did not let up. We were looking forward to the Arrival of the Rabbit for 3 weeks now, and we were not about to let some eleventh-hour cold feet deny us from the opportunity. By 7 pm, we had settled on a compromise: we could hang a large tarp over the concrete portion of our backyard (!), blocking off the sun and creating artificial shade. Fawn's enclosure could go underneath this artificial shade.
So this is what we're supposed to spend our fine Saturday on:
a. Getting a tarp
b. Hanging up the tarp
c. Getting the rabbit
d. Placing the rabbit underneath the tarp
However, an incredible streak of lethargy -- not to mention the insistence of certain Unnamed Persons on watching Wimbledon (spoiler alert: Serena won) -- makes us go 0/4. In our only major success of the day, we manage to drive ourselves to the local Petco.
On the way to Petco, a remarkable SMS back-and-forth took place. It is now reprinted (in its entirety) below.
Hari Chakravarthula: Do you have a tarp we could borrow?
Sriram Lakkaraju [Neighbor]: trap?
Oh yes
Tarp? I have a brown one
For putting on the floor ?
When ?
HC: We need it for 4 days (Sunday to Friday)
How large is it?
SL: 20x15
Its big
Size of our hall
We @ livermore now
Early tomorrow will give
HC: Thanks!
With the tarp detail taken care of, we zipped in to Petco and zipped out with an oversized bag of rabbit food and a receipt for $12.87. The real work -- putting up the tarp and getting the rabbit -- would have to wait until tomorrow.
DAY 1 Intro to Fawn
It's the weekend (Sunday, to be precise), so we have a hard time getting ready to receive the tarp from our neighbor. We finally knock on his door at around 10 am, and he hands over the 20' x 15' covering. I carry the (super-heavy) tarp back home, where we find that it can't go the 21-foot distance between the right-side fence and the windowsill. As the we-can't-get-the-rabbit threats close in, I find that stretching the tarp diagonally will solve the problem. Of course, my idea is immediately laughed off.
The real Eureka moment comes from my dad, who advocates for tying string to the holes on the border of the tarp to extend its effective reach by at least 2 feet. We all agree and then promptly waste 10 minutes trying to find the hammer. We finally find it and start our herculean task. 2 nails (both on the fence) are placed with ease, but the 10' windowsill -- which is supposed to hold a 15' tarp edge -- provides a challenge. My dad tries to drive a nail into a wall to provide a 3rd anchor point, but the strategy fails spectacularly. One nail flies into our lawn and almost hits Suraga; another lodges in our A/C unit; and yet another loses grip and falls to the ground. He soon abandons the idea and lodges the nail into the very end of our windowsill. Of course, this would mean that the final anchoring point would have to go 5 feet to the left of the leftmost point in the wall.
The situation looks bleak, but I come up with a crazy idea. I soon tie the tarp to a nail anchored on a far-off windowsill, and the tarp is set.
Getting the rabbit proves to be harder. At about 3 pm, we arrive at the Liangs' house (if you don't remember, the Liangs took care of the rabbit for the week before we did) to pick up Fawn. Alex's father shows us the tricks of the trade -- how to care for Fawn, how to lock her cage, how to feed her, how to change her bedding -- before Jing (Alex's mother) shows up. She lets Fawn out of her fence (apparently, there are 2 layers of security, the cage and the fence. The fence goes around the cage, which is open during the day so Fawn can roam the fenced area. The rabbit is inside the cage at night and when her owners are out of the house). Even in the Liangs' bush-free, wide-open backyard, it takes us (Jing, Alex, Suraga, and me) approximately 5 minutes to catch the wily rabbit. Jing eventually seizes Fawn by the ears, stuffs her into her cage, and loads her into our minivan.
The petrified rabbit sits still in the trunk of our minivan as we make our way down CA-85. Eventually, we arrive at our house. I unpack the fence; my dad unloads the rabbit food; and we generally get ready for the Arrival Of Fawn. However, we spot a huge problem: why would a live rabbit want to live under a tarp?
Officially, the problem was that "Fawn doesn't have any mud to dig." But it didn't matter: we had a rabbit but no place to put it!
Necessity is the mother of whatever-it-is, as the old adage goes, so we find the perfect place for Fawn in a matter of minutes. It's in the far right corner of the lawn (in the mud border around the grass) and it's shaded 24/7 by a small maple tree. Relieved at having found the perfect spot, my parents set up the enclosure.
While writing this, I am realizing that in the previous paragraphs I left out the most important character: Fawn the rabbit. Now, let me wind back the clock and tell you what Fawn was doing in this time. (Feel free to skip the below 3 paragraphs.)
The Liang family had taken care of Fawn for the past 2 weeks. She was very used to her present situation: the diggable soil, the large hole she had dug over that time, the location of her fence (under a large apple tree on the side of the Liangs' backyard). She was even used to being let out of her fence to hide beneath the Liangs' ivy and then being recaptured by the ears. So it came as quite a shock to her when she had to go to a new house.
The drive made matters worse. Fawn was stuck in her rickety cage inside the trunk (!) of our minivan. This is never a good idea. With every wobble of her cage, with every turn of the car, Fawn got scared-er and scared-er. By the end of the drive, she was absolutely petrified.
When we transported Fawn to out backyard, she was shivering with fear. She had no idea where she was; she was surrounded by unfamiliar people; she was still scared from the drive. And we didn't even pay any attention to her! (We were distracted by the Where to Put the Cage Crisis.) Finally, when my parents were setting up the enclosure, me and Suraga saw the shaking rabbit.
No amount of petting could calm down Fawn. She refused all food. She shrunk into a corner when someone petted her. She was still shivering with fear. So I attempted something new: I opened her cage and let her roam free. She didn't want to.
After about 10 minutes, Fawn gets trusting enough to get out of her fence. And then -- very amusingly -- Fawn starts eating up our backyard.
It's rabbit paradise for the cottontail rabbit in question: there are leaves everywhere! Rosebush leaves, hibiscus leaves, bushes, weeds, grass... they all go into the stomach of a certain hungry rabbit. Fawn traverses the mud border around the lawn, beginning her Complimentary Culinary Tour of the Garden, as me and Suraga watch on in adoration. During this time, my dad comes out with his SLR and snaps a few pictures. They are shown below (click to enlarge):
Suraga, Fawn, and me are enjoying ourselves and lose track of time. It's now 7:30 pm, and we must return Fawn to her cage for dinner. However, the rabbit shows no signs of wanting to get back...
After some unsuccessful attempts at peacefully coercing her to get inside the cage (read: putting carrots inside her cage and scaring her), the order is given: "Grab the rabbit!" But Suraga and me have mixed opinions. Wouldn't grabbing Fawn
a. hurt her
b. scare her
c. be impossible for rabbit-grabbing novices like us?
So we abstain from grabbing Fawn but up the peaceful-coercion attempts. We try to push her (since she's still scared of us, she could end up running back to her cage, right? Right?), but that doesn't work: Fawn quickly U-turns and sprints under my legs. After more unfruitful attempts, we finally call for backup. My mom comes into the garden, and the rabbit-grabbing starts in earnest.
It sounds easy enough: just pounce on the rabbit when she isn't looking. But Fawn is very wily. My first attempt comes up short when Fawn simply scooches a foot deeper into the rosebush; my second attempt leads me to get pricked by a thorn; my third attempt is likewise thwarted; and in my 4th attempt, in a wide-open section in the far-left corner of the lawn (underneath our big tree), Fawn goes underneath my legs and escapes to the rosebush. I'm now genuinely frustrated. We call for backup yet again.
It's four humans versus one rabbit, but the rabbit manages to get the better of us for another 10 minutes. The ideas to capture Fawn get more and more outrageous -- "Put a bucket over here, a box over here, a rock over here, and the cage at the back and she'll be forced to go in to the cage!" -- but our success never improves. In the end, the simplest technique provides results: I simply go behind the bush, grab Fawn, and lock her in her cage. When dinner is served, Fawn eats everything provided to her -- lettuce, hibiscus leaves, bush leaves -- except carrots and rabbit food. But she has enough energy for her surprising ordeal tomorrow.
DAY 2
When I wake up, Fawn is out of her fence. Don't worry, though -- Suraga let her out with express permission of my dad. She is outside, watching over Fawn as the rabbit eats up our garden. I join her. (I'm joining Suraga in watching Fawn. I'm not joining Fawn in eating up our garden.)
Nobody knows why it happened. Possibly a little brainfreeze. Maybe boredom with Fawn's (very boring) routine around our garden. Plausibly sinister forces at play. But, somehow, we leave Fawn unattended while she roams free in our garden.
I come out five minutes later. Outside, I see some bushes (some half-eaten), some flowers, and Fawn's empty fence. But no rabbit.
Just in case you've skipped over the previous paragraph, FAWN IS NOWHERE TO BE FOUND.
I look under bushes; I look near our garbage bins; I look underneath our bikes; but I can't find Fawn.
I make the announcement. "Do you know where Fawn is?" I ask. Pandemonium ensues.
"She's GONE?!?" screams my mom. "I looked everywhere!" "Why did you even let it out??!!?" "How can you do this???" "How will I answer them?!?!" "Keep calm!" "The rabbit will come back!" "How could you let it go???" "The rabbit is GONE!" "Where could it be???" "We can find it!!!" "No!" "Where could it have gone???!" "Why did you let it out?!?" "How could it have gone from our garden???"
We soon realize that a small gap in our garden fence is responsible for Fawn's escape. The gap leads to the hedge in our front yard, so we rush to there trying to find the wily rabbit. It looks like Fawn has met her demise inside a gutter or underneath the wheels of a car. "How will I answer them?!?" "We've lost their rabbit!!" I resolve to look in every bush, in every gutter, and knock on every door, but the rabbit is as good as gone. But at the eleventh hour, when things look bleakest, a familiar face pops out of our hedge.
"It's over here! It's over here!" Finding the rabbit is one thing; catching it is another. Fawn is underneath the thickest of hedges. This hedge is chock-full of branches, vines, and leaves. It's almost impossible to get a stationary object in there, let alone a live, slippery rabbit.
I'll spare you from having to read a description of our absolutely futile efforts to recapture Fawn. It suffices to say that ever since I grabbed Fawn on Day 1, I had earned the (unfair) reputation of "rabbit-grabber," so the burden of catching Fawn fell upon me. And I failed. Again and again. Eventually, teamwork saves the day. My mom chases the rabbit to my side of the bush with her broom; my dad cuts open an inroads into the hedge; and I grab the rabbit. Again.
After our rabbit-catching escapade, we leave Fawn in her tightly-locked fence. There's not really much to talk about from here; although Fawn is a cute rabbit, she is usually content with roaming about her enclosure and attempting to dig a hole in the soil. Throughout the day, we check on Fawn every 30 minutes or so and resolve to never let her out of the fence again.
Our only notable moments with Fawn are:
a. Taking a selfie with her (see pictures; click to enlarge)
b. Figuring out that she really likes a bush with purple flowers (the "yumbush") and feeding her said bush
c. Trying to get her to go inside her cage for dinner -- see below
At 8:30 pm, me and Suraga return from playing outside. As soon as we come in, we are set on another task: getting Fawn into her cage. Despite my rabbit-grabbing stints as above, I'm still wary of grabbing Fawn. So we try to peacefully coerce the rabbit again. Suraga offers one hibiscus leaf after another to Fawn, each leaf 2 inches closer to the cage than the last. About 15 leaves are used for this plan. However, in the home stretch -- Fawn is 5 inches from the cage -- we fail. Fawn suddenly decides that she doesn't want to eat anymore leaves and trots off.
I am mad. "That crazy rabbit!" I exclaim. Another try fails (Fawn is full). But I get another idea: I place the cage horizontally so it blocks off access to the other side of the fence and menacingly bring it closer to Fawn. She simply slips through the 2' space between the fence and the cage. I put in a bucket to make up for the difference. She slips through the 5" space. I turn the bucket upside-down. There's a 2" space, but Fawn can't slip through. To get out safe, Fawn finally leaps into her cage.
DAY 3
We've come to the point of this piece where there isn't much to write about anymore. This is because all we ever do with Fawn is:
a. Go outside to check on Fawn
b. Locate Fawn
c. Call her a "coochie little coo"
d. Pet her
e. Keep petting her
f. Feed her carrots/lettuce/spinach/hibiscus leaves/maple leaves/yumbush
g. Pet her
h. Get bored
i. Go back inside
j. Repeat
Since I am not writing this blogpost live (in fact, this section is being written on Day 5), I can't jot down the exact details of every check-up. So from now on, this blog will be restricted to the memorable events (i.e. the ones I can remember).
The first Memorable Event of the day occurred at precisely 6:03 pm. Well, not really. It took 5 hours to develop, but the climax occurred at precisely 6:03 pm. Below is the most truthful version of this Memorable Event.
On this fine Tuesday, at noon, I tried to let Fawn out of her fence. However, this blessing to the rabbit came with a condition: she had to get out within 30 seconds. Fawn decided not to venture into the hot sun, and I re-secured the "lock" (a pipe cleaner). However, I didn't tie it tight enough. The door was ever-so-slightly ajar.
At precisely 6:03, my mom, Suraga, and me returned from my swim practice. My mom had a eerie premonition of Fawn's disappearance. A few moments later, her worst suspicions were confirmed. The rabbit was gone.
In case you skipped over the previous paragraph, FAWN WAS GONE. For the second time in two days.
Once again, "Where's Fawn?" "She's not in her fence??!!?" "She's GONE!?!" "NOO!" "Where could she go??" "Again!?!" "How could she escape?!?" "Where is she??"
Once again, we rush to the hedge in front of our porch. We poke around everywhere, but she's good as gone -- to the best of our knowledge, she might have escaped 2 hours ago. But once again my mom finds Fawn on the far edge of the fence, sparing us the worry.
Once again, finding the rabbit is not the same as capturing it. Fawn is as slippery as ever. The bush is as thick and as chock-full of branches as ever. And (this is where the similarities break down) we are short one person.
I think you can picture the scene without much description: 3 flummoxed rabbit-grabbing novices trying to extricate the slipperiest rabbit in history from the thickest hedge in the world. So I'll spare you a description of our terribly fruitless endeavors and instead tell you how we finally recaptured Fawn.
After 30 minutes of failure, we get an idea: chase the rabbit back through the gap in the fence (the one she escaped from), block off the gap, and recapture Fawn in our refreshingly bush-free lawn. It seems crazy at first, but it works. Fawn is tired out and trapped in the garden, where she meekly surrenders. I grab her -- again -- and stuff her back into her fence.
In the evening, the neighborhood kids Abhi, Raghav, and Abbu came into our backyard to see and feed the rabbit.
In the night, I return from playing outside to get Fawn into her cage. It's easy: she's tired and in no mood to rebel. I grab her for the...uh...let me count... 5th time and put her in.
DAY 4
WARNING: This section is a very short chapter in my textbook of Fawnology.* For reasons stated above, I can only include Memorable Moments in this blogpost. There happen to be no Memorable Moments on Day 4.
OK, I lied. Even though there are no Memorable Moments on Day 4, I still have something to write about.
This particular something has to do with Fawn's behavior on this day. Towards the evening, I observe her standing on her very tippy-toes and sniffing. Why is she doing this? Is she hungry? Does she want to go out of her fence? (After all, we didn't let her out today.) Is she just trying to be cute? Well...
- She's not hungry -- she refuses lettuce, carrots, hibiscus leaves, and yumbush
- She's not trying to be cute -- she's doing this even when there aren't any humans around
- So she wants to go out.
It's too late to let Fawn out, but I promise to get her out of her fence tomorrow. For now, I simply grab her -- for the 6th time! -- and put her into her cage. Dinner is served.
DAY 5
At 9:15 am, I make good on my promise and let Fawn out (on purpose) for the first time since Day 2. However, we make a few changes to avoid that day's disaster. The gap in the fence is blocked off, we vow to stay in the backyard and watch over the rabbit, and she only gets 20 minutes outside. While Fawn roams about the garden, time flies. It's soon 9:35 am.
I waste no time. Fawn is at the far-left corner of the garden, in a wide-open space underneath the big tree. (If you have a good memory, you'll probably remember that this is the very spot in which Fawn escaped between my legs 4 days ago.) But Fawn can't escape this time: she's taken unawares and grabbed by the body. (By me. Again.) Somehow, somehow... she wriggles out and leaps out of my hands before I get to the cage.
Never one to be daunted, I try again. I get closer!... but no cigar. Fawn slips out of my hands a mere foot from the cage, and I call for backup. My mom comes outside and endeavors to help, but Fawn is wary now. The slightest touch or approach by a human, and she quickly slides into the rosebush (the only spot of the garden which is impossible to reach). My next 3 grabbing attempts fail miserably. After this failure, we wake up to a more harsh truth: Fawn has become aggressive. She scratches me and my mom during subsequent attempts to catch her.
But we don't give up just yet. Fawn is now behind a hibiscus bush on the mud-lined border between the grass and the fence. We block her path on one side by a board, on another side by a basketball hoop, and on the final side by her cage. All the while, we harass** her with a broom and add food to the cage to provide her some incentive to get in. After a near-miss (Fawn leaps into her cage but leaps out before I can lock her in), we redouble our efforts. But Fawn has one last play. She runs, leaps, and hurdles the basketball hoop, escaping to the wide-open lawn. I am officially daunted.
I have one last play as well. I avoid attacking Fawn from the front and instead chase her to a spot underneath a small rosebush. It's not perfect -- I could easily get pricked by the rose thorns -- but I really want to get that rabbit. I pounce from behind, grab Fawn, and put her back in the cage. I later get a Band-Aid for the 4 cuts I sustain.
Around the evening, more neighborhood kids flock around Fawn's cage. She seems to be scared by all the attention, and she shrinks into a corner.
In the night, I use a Day 2-esque tactic to get the suddenly aggressive Fawn back into her cage. This time, I press the cage to the wall and gently push her in. Dinner is served.
(Note: After a marathon blogging section, I have finally caught up! All work from now on will be written live, so I don't have to bluster with Memorable Whatevers anymore.)
DAY 6 Epilogue
I get up at 8:03 (remember, I'm still enjoying my summer) and go outside with Suraga to give Fawn her breakfast. Suraga gets spinach and lettuce and soon dumps them on Fawn's enclosure. The rabbit is mad, but she eats her lettuce anyway. She'd better: this is her last breakfast with us.
Earlier in the day, Anh Bui -- the next 5-day pet-sitter in line -- contacted us about picking up Fawn today. She hasn't determined the time and place yet, she wrote, but it will be today.
At 12:26, we get another update. Anh will pick up Fawn after 6 pm. When we go outside to check on Fawn, she refuses lettuce, carrots, spinach, rabbit food, and hibiscus leaves. She eventually eats one mini lettuce leaf.
My next checkup with Fawn comes at 6:05, when I let her out of her cage. (This makes more sense when I tell you that as a safety precaution, we had put Fawn in her cage while we were out of the house.) These will probably be my last checkup with the rabbit. Anh is coming to pick her up at 7:30.
"Sorry, coochie little coo, but we have to do this," I tell the rabbit. "Other people have to enjoy you too, coochie. So Anh is coming and picking you up..."
Suraga also has a quiet moment with Fawn outside. According to her, "I am very sad that Fawn is leaving..."
My mom says, "Well... it's bittersweet, because... I am relieved that I don't have to take care of her but sad because she's leaving..."
My dad (over the phone) reminisces: "Fawn. Well, I will miss Fawn... he's a cute rabbit and very naughty, and I'm glad he eats his food on time [joke at the expense of me]...."
At 7:26, Anh and her family show up as planned. We walk them through the textbook on Fawnology.* 15 minutes later, they plan to depart. Suraga humbly hands over a present for Fawn -- a hibiscus leaf with "Fawn is the best" written on it -- and drops it in her cage. We say a few final words, and the now-missing piece of our lives is driven off into the sunset.
FOOTNOTES, ADDENDUM, AND OTHER STUFF
Footnotes
*My textbook on Fawnology would be named A Primer of Fawnology: Official Textbook for Fawnology 103 - Five Days With Fawn.
** It has been pointed out to me that "harass" is too vague and could easily be read to mean "whack" or "abuse." Clarification: We were just lightly pushing Fawn so she would move towards the cage and did not harm her in any way.
Addendum
A totally scientific drawing of our backyard is included below. (Hint: it's here to help you understand the chase sequences in this blog.)
OK, this is it! You've reached the end of my blogpost! (I'm only going to write a sequel if at least 3 people comment in favor, so click the comment link below!)
THE END
a. Getting a tarp
b. Hanging up the tarp
c. Getting the rabbit
d. Placing the rabbit underneath the tarp
However, an incredible streak of lethargy -- not to mention the insistence of certain Unnamed Persons on watching Wimbledon (spoiler alert: Serena won) -- makes us go 0/4. In our only major success of the day, we manage to drive ourselves to the local Petco.
On the way to Petco, a remarkable SMS back-and-forth took place. It is now reprinted (in its entirety) below.
Hari Chakravarthula: Do you have a tarp we could borrow?
Sriram Lakkaraju [Neighbor]: trap?
Oh yes
Tarp? I have a brown one
For putting on the floor ?
When ?
HC: We need it for 4 days (Sunday to Friday)
How large is it?
SL: 20x15
Its big
Size of our hall
We @ livermore now
Early tomorrow will give
HC: Thanks!
With the tarp detail taken care of, we zipped in to Petco and zipped out with an oversized bag of rabbit food and a receipt for $12.87. The real work -- putting up the tarp and getting the rabbit -- would have to wait until tomorrow.
DAY 1 Intro to Fawn
It's the weekend (Sunday, to be precise), so we have a hard time getting ready to receive the tarp from our neighbor. We finally knock on his door at around 10 am, and he hands over the 20' x 15' covering. I carry the (super-heavy) tarp back home, where we find that it can't go the 21-foot distance between the right-side fence and the windowsill. As the we-can't-get-the-rabbit threats close in, I find that stretching the tarp diagonally will solve the problem. Of course, my idea is immediately laughed off.
The real Eureka moment comes from my dad, who advocates for tying string to the holes on the border of the tarp to extend its effective reach by at least 2 feet. We all agree and then promptly waste 10 minutes trying to find the hammer. We finally find it and start our herculean task. 2 nails (both on the fence) are placed with ease, but the 10' windowsill -- which is supposed to hold a 15' tarp edge -- provides a challenge. My dad tries to drive a nail into a wall to provide a 3rd anchor point, but the strategy fails spectacularly. One nail flies into our lawn and almost hits Suraga; another lodges in our A/C unit; and yet another loses grip and falls to the ground. He soon abandons the idea and lodges the nail into the very end of our windowsill. Of course, this would mean that the final anchoring point would have to go 5 feet to the left of the leftmost point in the wall.
The situation looks bleak, but I come up with a crazy idea. I soon tie the tarp to a nail anchored on a far-off windowsill, and the tarp is set.
Getting the rabbit proves to be harder. At about 3 pm, we arrive at the Liangs' house (if you don't remember, the Liangs took care of the rabbit for the week before we did) to pick up Fawn. Alex's father shows us the tricks of the trade -- how to care for Fawn, how to lock her cage, how to feed her, how to change her bedding -- before Jing (Alex's mother) shows up. She lets Fawn out of her fence (apparently, there are 2 layers of security, the cage and the fence. The fence goes around the cage, which is open during the day so Fawn can roam the fenced area. The rabbit is inside the cage at night and when her owners are out of the house). Even in the Liangs' bush-free, wide-open backyard, it takes us (Jing, Alex, Suraga, and me) approximately 5 minutes to catch the wily rabbit. Jing eventually seizes Fawn by the ears, stuffs her into her cage, and loads her into our minivan.
The petrified rabbit sits still in the trunk of our minivan as we make our way down CA-85. Eventually, we arrive at our house. I unpack the fence; my dad unloads the rabbit food; and we generally get ready for the Arrival Of Fawn. However, we spot a huge problem: why would a live rabbit want to live under a tarp?
Officially, the problem was that "Fawn doesn't have any mud to dig." But it didn't matter: we had a rabbit but no place to put it!
Necessity is the mother of whatever-it-is, as the old adage goes, so we find the perfect place for Fawn in a matter of minutes. It's in the far right corner of the lawn (in the mud border around the grass) and it's shaded 24/7 by a small maple tree. Relieved at having found the perfect spot, my parents set up the enclosure.
While writing this, I am realizing that in the previous paragraphs I left out the most important character: Fawn the rabbit. Now, let me wind back the clock and tell you what Fawn was doing in this time. (Feel free to skip the below 3 paragraphs.)
The Liang family had taken care of Fawn for the past 2 weeks. She was very used to her present situation: the diggable soil, the large hole she had dug over that time, the location of her fence (under a large apple tree on the side of the Liangs' backyard). She was even used to being let out of her fence to hide beneath the Liangs' ivy and then being recaptured by the ears. So it came as quite a shock to her when she had to go to a new house.
The drive made matters worse. Fawn was stuck in her rickety cage inside the trunk (!) of our minivan. This is never a good idea. With every wobble of her cage, with every turn of the car, Fawn got scared-er and scared-er. By the end of the drive, she was absolutely petrified.
When we transported Fawn to out backyard, she was shivering with fear. She had no idea where she was; she was surrounded by unfamiliar people; she was still scared from the drive. And we didn't even pay any attention to her! (We were distracted by the Where to Put the Cage Crisis.) Finally, when my parents were setting up the enclosure, me and Suraga saw the shaking rabbit.
No amount of petting could calm down Fawn. She refused all food. She shrunk into a corner when someone petted her. She was still shivering with fear. So I attempted something new: I opened her cage and let her roam free. She didn't want to.
After about 10 minutes, Fawn gets trusting enough to get out of her fence. And then -- very amusingly -- Fawn starts eating up our backyard.
It's rabbit paradise for the cottontail rabbit in question: there are leaves everywhere! Rosebush leaves, hibiscus leaves, bushes, weeds, grass... they all go into the stomach of a certain hungry rabbit. Fawn traverses the mud border around the lawn, beginning her Complimentary Culinary Tour of the Garden, as me and Suraga watch on in adoration. During this time, my dad comes out with his SLR and snaps a few pictures. They are shown below (click to enlarge):
Suraga, Fawn, and me are enjoying ourselves and lose track of time. It's now 7:30 pm, and we must return Fawn to her cage for dinner. However, the rabbit shows no signs of wanting to get back...
After some unsuccessful attempts at peacefully coercing her to get inside the cage (read: putting carrots inside her cage and scaring her), the order is given: "Grab the rabbit!" But Suraga and me have mixed opinions. Wouldn't grabbing Fawn
a. hurt her
b. scare her
c. be impossible for rabbit-grabbing novices like us?
So we abstain from grabbing Fawn but up the peaceful-coercion attempts. We try to push her (since she's still scared of us, she could end up running back to her cage, right? Right?), but that doesn't work: Fawn quickly U-turns and sprints under my legs. After more unfruitful attempts, we finally call for backup. My mom comes into the garden, and the rabbit-grabbing starts in earnest.
It sounds easy enough: just pounce on the rabbit when she isn't looking. But Fawn is very wily. My first attempt comes up short when Fawn simply scooches a foot deeper into the rosebush; my second attempt leads me to get pricked by a thorn; my third attempt is likewise thwarted; and in my 4th attempt, in a wide-open section in the far-left corner of the lawn (underneath our big tree), Fawn goes underneath my legs and escapes to the rosebush. I'm now genuinely frustrated. We call for backup yet again.
It's four humans versus one rabbit, but the rabbit manages to get the better of us for another 10 minutes. The ideas to capture Fawn get more and more outrageous -- "Put a bucket over here, a box over here, a rock over here, and the cage at the back and she'll be forced to go in to the cage!" -- but our success never improves. In the end, the simplest technique provides results: I simply go behind the bush, grab Fawn, and lock her in her cage. When dinner is served, Fawn eats everything provided to her -- lettuce, hibiscus leaves, bush leaves -- except carrots and rabbit food. But she has enough energy for her surprising ordeal tomorrow.
DAY 2
When I wake up, Fawn is out of her fence. Don't worry, though -- Suraga let her out with express permission of my dad. She is outside, watching over Fawn as the rabbit eats up our garden. I join her. (I'm joining Suraga in watching Fawn. I'm not joining Fawn in eating up our garden.)
Nobody knows why it happened. Possibly a little brainfreeze. Maybe boredom with Fawn's (very boring) routine around our garden. Plausibly sinister forces at play. But, somehow, we leave Fawn unattended while she roams free in our garden.
I come out five minutes later. Outside, I see some bushes (some half-eaten), some flowers, and Fawn's empty fence. But no rabbit.
Just in case you've skipped over the previous paragraph, FAWN IS NOWHERE TO BE FOUND.
I look under bushes; I look near our garbage bins; I look underneath our bikes; but I can't find Fawn.
I make the announcement. "Do you know where Fawn is?" I ask. Pandemonium ensues.
"She's GONE?!?" screams my mom. "I looked everywhere!" "Why did you even let it out??!!?" "How can you do this???" "How will I answer them?!?!" "Keep calm!" "The rabbit will come back!" "How could you let it go???" "The rabbit is GONE!" "Where could it be???" "We can find it!!!" "No!" "Where could it have gone???!" "Why did you let it out?!?" "How could it have gone from our garden???"
We soon realize that a small gap in our garden fence is responsible for Fawn's escape. The gap leads to the hedge in our front yard, so we rush to there trying to find the wily rabbit. It looks like Fawn has met her demise inside a gutter or underneath the wheels of a car. "How will I answer them?!?" "We've lost their rabbit!!" I resolve to look in every bush, in every gutter, and knock on every door, but the rabbit is as good as gone. But at the eleventh hour, when things look bleakest, a familiar face pops out of our hedge.
"It's over here! It's over here!" Finding the rabbit is one thing; catching it is another. Fawn is underneath the thickest of hedges. This hedge is chock-full of branches, vines, and leaves. It's almost impossible to get a stationary object in there, let alone a live, slippery rabbit.
I'll spare you from having to read a description of our absolutely futile efforts to recapture Fawn. It suffices to say that ever since I grabbed Fawn on Day 1, I had earned the (unfair) reputation of "rabbit-grabber," so the burden of catching Fawn fell upon me. And I failed. Again and again. Eventually, teamwork saves the day. My mom chases the rabbit to my side of the bush with her broom; my dad cuts open an inroads into the hedge; and I grab the rabbit. Again.
After our rabbit-catching escapade, we leave Fawn in her tightly-locked fence. There's not really much to talk about from here; although Fawn is a cute rabbit, she is usually content with roaming about her enclosure and attempting to dig a hole in the soil. Throughout the day, we check on Fawn every 30 minutes or so and resolve to never let her out of the fence again.
Our only notable moments with Fawn are:
a. Taking a selfie with her (see pictures; click to enlarge)
b. Figuring out that she really likes a bush with purple flowers (the "yumbush") and feeding her said bush
c. Trying to get her to go inside her cage for dinner -- see below
At 8:30 pm, me and Suraga return from playing outside. As soon as we come in, we are set on another task: getting Fawn into her cage. Despite my rabbit-grabbing stints as above, I'm still wary of grabbing Fawn. So we try to peacefully coerce the rabbit again. Suraga offers one hibiscus leaf after another to Fawn, each leaf 2 inches closer to the cage than the last. About 15 leaves are used for this plan. However, in the home stretch -- Fawn is 5 inches from the cage -- we fail. Fawn suddenly decides that she doesn't want to eat anymore leaves and trots off.I am mad. "That crazy rabbit!" I exclaim. Another try fails (Fawn is full). But I get another idea: I place the cage horizontally so it blocks off access to the other side of the fence and menacingly bring it closer to Fawn. She simply slips through the 2' space between the fence and the cage. I put in a bucket to make up for the difference. She slips through the 5" space. I turn the bucket upside-down. There's a 2" space, but Fawn can't slip through. To get out safe, Fawn finally leaps into her cage.
DAY 3
We've come to the point of this piece where there isn't much to write about anymore. This is because all we ever do with Fawn is:
a. Go outside to check on Fawn
b. Locate Fawn
c. Call her a "coochie little coo"
d. Pet her
e. Keep petting her
f. Feed her carrots/lettuce/spinach/hibiscus leaves/maple leaves/yumbush
g. Pet her
h. Get bored
i. Go back inside
j. Repeat
Since I am not writing this blogpost live (in fact, this section is being written on Day 5), I can't jot down the exact details of every check-up. So from now on, this blog will be restricted to the memorable events (i.e. the ones I can remember).
The first Memorable Event of the day occurred at precisely 6:03 pm. Well, not really. It took 5 hours to develop, but the climax occurred at precisely 6:03 pm. Below is the most truthful version of this Memorable Event.
On this fine Tuesday, at noon, I tried to let Fawn out of her fence. However, this blessing to the rabbit came with a condition: she had to get out within 30 seconds. Fawn decided not to venture into the hot sun, and I re-secured the "lock" (a pipe cleaner). However, I didn't tie it tight enough. The door was ever-so-slightly ajar.
At precisely 6:03, my mom, Suraga, and me returned from my swim practice. My mom had a eerie premonition of Fawn's disappearance. A few moments later, her worst suspicions were confirmed. The rabbit was gone.
In case you skipped over the previous paragraph, FAWN WAS GONE. For the second time in two days.
Once again, "Where's Fawn?" "She's not in her fence??!!?" "She's GONE!?!" "NOO!" "Where could she go??" "Again!?!" "How could she escape?!?" "Where is she??"
Once again, we rush to the hedge in front of our porch. We poke around everywhere, but she's good as gone -- to the best of our knowledge, she might have escaped 2 hours ago. But once again my mom finds Fawn on the far edge of the fence, sparing us the worry.
Once again, finding the rabbit is not the same as capturing it. Fawn is as slippery as ever. The bush is as thick and as chock-full of branches as ever. And (this is where the similarities break down) we are short one person.
I think you can picture the scene without much description: 3 flummoxed rabbit-grabbing novices trying to extricate the slipperiest rabbit in history from the thickest hedge in the world. So I'll spare you a description of our terribly fruitless endeavors and instead tell you how we finally recaptured Fawn.
After 30 minutes of failure, we get an idea: chase the rabbit back through the gap in the fence (the one she escaped from), block off the gap, and recapture Fawn in our refreshingly bush-free lawn. It seems crazy at first, but it works. Fawn is tired out and trapped in the garden, where she meekly surrenders. I grab her -- again -- and stuff her back into her fence.
In the evening, the neighborhood kids Abhi, Raghav, and Abbu came into our backyard to see and feed the rabbit.
In the night, I return from playing outside to get Fawn into her cage. It's easy: she's tired and in no mood to rebel. I grab her for the...uh...let me count... 5th time and put her in.
DAY 4
WARNING: This section is a very short chapter in my textbook of Fawnology.* For reasons stated above, I can only include Memorable Moments in this blogpost. There happen to be no Memorable Moments on Day 4.
OK, I lied. Even though there are no Memorable Moments on Day 4, I still have something to write about.
This particular something has to do with Fawn's behavior on this day. Towards the evening, I observe her standing on her very tippy-toes and sniffing. Why is she doing this? Is she hungry? Does she want to go out of her fence? (After all, we didn't let her out today.) Is she just trying to be cute? Well...
- She's not hungry -- she refuses lettuce, carrots, hibiscus leaves, and yumbush
- She's not trying to be cute -- she's doing this even when there aren't any humans around
- So she wants to go out.
It's too late to let Fawn out, but I promise to get her out of her fence tomorrow. For now, I simply grab her -- for the 6th time! -- and put her into her cage. Dinner is served.
DAY 5
At 9:15 am, I make good on my promise and let Fawn out (on purpose) for the first time since Day 2. However, we make a few changes to avoid that day's disaster. The gap in the fence is blocked off, we vow to stay in the backyard and watch over the rabbit, and she only gets 20 minutes outside. While Fawn roams about the garden, time flies. It's soon 9:35 am.
I waste no time. Fawn is at the far-left corner of the garden, in a wide-open space underneath the big tree. (If you have a good memory, you'll probably remember that this is the very spot in which Fawn escaped between my legs 4 days ago.) But Fawn can't escape this time: she's taken unawares and grabbed by the body. (By me. Again.) Somehow, somehow... she wriggles out and leaps out of my hands before I get to the cage.
Never one to be daunted, I try again. I get closer!... but no cigar. Fawn slips out of my hands a mere foot from the cage, and I call for backup. My mom comes outside and endeavors to help, but Fawn is wary now. The slightest touch or approach by a human, and she quickly slides into the rosebush (the only spot of the garden which is impossible to reach). My next 3 grabbing attempts fail miserably. After this failure, we wake up to a more harsh truth: Fawn has become aggressive. She scratches me and my mom during subsequent attempts to catch her.
But we don't give up just yet. Fawn is now behind a hibiscus bush on the mud-lined border between the grass and the fence. We block her path on one side by a board, on another side by a basketball hoop, and on the final side by her cage. All the while, we harass** her with a broom and add food to the cage to provide her some incentive to get in. After a near-miss (Fawn leaps into her cage but leaps out before I can lock her in), we redouble our efforts. But Fawn has one last play. She runs, leaps, and hurdles the basketball hoop, escaping to the wide-open lawn. I am officially daunted.
I have one last play as well. I avoid attacking Fawn from the front and instead chase her to a spot underneath a small rosebush. It's not perfect -- I could easily get pricked by the rose thorns -- but I really want to get that rabbit. I pounce from behind, grab Fawn, and put her back in the cage. I later get a Band-Aid for the 4 cuts I sustain.
Around the evening, more neighborhood kids flock around Fawn's cage. She seems to be scared by all the attention, and she shrinks into a corner.
In the night, I use a Day 2-esque tactic to get the suddenly aggressive Fawn back into her cage. This time, I press the cage to the wall and gently push her in. Dinner is served.
(Note: After a marathon blogging section, I have finally caught up! All work from now on will be written live, so I don't have to bluster with Memorable Whatevers anymore.)
DAY 6 Epilogue
I get up at 8:03 (remember, I'm still enjoying my summer) and go outside with Suraga to give Fawn her breakfast. Suraga gets spinach and lettuce and soon dumps them on Fawn's enclosure. The rabbit is mad, but she eats her lettuce anyway. She'd better: this is her last breakfast with us.
Earlier in the day, Anh Bui -- the next 5-day pet-sitter in line -- contacted us about picking up Fawn today. She hasn't determined the time and place yet, she wrote, but it will be today.
At 12:26, we get another update. Anh will pick up Fawn after 6 pm. When we go outside to check on Fawn, she refuses lettuce, carrots, spinach, rabbit food, and hibiscus leaves. She eventually eats one mini lettuce leaf.
My next checkup with Fawn comes at 6:05, when I let her out of her cage. (This makes more sense when I tell you that as a safety precaution, we had put Fawn in her cage while we were out of the house.) These will probably be my last checkup with the rabbit. Anh is coming to pick her up at 7:30.
"Sorry, coochie little coo, but we have to do this," I tell the rabbit. "Other people have to enjoy you too, coochie. So Anh is coming and picking you up..."
Suraga also has a quiet moment with Fawn outside. According to her, "I am very sad that Fawn is leaving..."
My mom says, "Well... it's bittersweet, because... I am relieved that I don't have to take care of her but sad because she's leaving..."
My dad (over the phone) reminisces: "Fawn. Well, I will miss Fawn... he's a cute rabbit and very naughty, and I'm glad he eats his food on time [joke at the expense of me]...."
At 7:26, Anh and her family show up as planned. We walk them through the textbook on Fawnology.* 15 minutes later, they plan to depart. Suraga humbly hands over a present for Fawn -- a hibiscus leaf with "Fawn is the best" written on it -- and drops it in her cage. We say a few final words, and the now-missing piece of our lives is driven off into the sunset.
FOOTNOTES, ADDENDUM, AND OTHER STUFF
Footnotes
*My textbook on Fawnology would be named A Primer of Fawnology: Official Textbook for Fawnology 103 - Five Days With Fawn.
** It has been pointed out to me that "harass" is too vague and could easily be read to mean "whack" or "abuse." Clarification: We were just lightly pushing Fawn so she would move towards the cage and did not harm her in any way.
Addendum
A totally scientific drawing of our backyard is included below. (Hint: it's here to help you understand the chase sequences in this blog.)
THE END
