
Paint Swatch “Gypsum” [10-01-23]


And then, in total darkness except for a light pole next to their house; it began.
A solitary howl; slow and deep, and then another voice broke out, and another. Until the howls of the wolves filled up the air and sky around us, filling in all the places between the trees and within my own body.
Their deep booms and high yips and guttering throat calls and chanting, fitting together in perfect time. A choir of ghosts. Wailing cries of wandering souls in the night.
Then, without any sign of a change, they crescendo, all howls becoming one. The voice of a great and ancient god, a sound that makes my very atoms vibrate.
There is not an instrument made by the hands of man that could come close to creating the sound of a wolf crying. A familiar call to my soul.
We just moved in.
Cows and goats as neighbors.
Mangy dog hunting varmnits.
Old hardwood floors.
A backporch for houseplants, smoke breaks, muddy boots.
Our white shanty farmhouse.
Windows abound; sparrows nests on the ledges.
The steady clack and rumble of trains.
A room to be my Study.
The original blog article posted with accompanying photos: http://ohiothoughtsblog.blogspot.com/2015/02/rabbits-natural-and-cultural-history.html
Rabbits are remarkable and fascinating creatures that deserve appreciation, so I think a bit of an overview is in order:
Rabbits (Sylvilagus) and Hares (Lepus) of North America belong to the Order and Family Lagomorpha Leporidae, and in total there are 29 species of rabbits and 32 species of hares.
So what’s the difference between a rabbit and a hare?
Rabbits are altricial; meaning they are born in an undeveloped state and require care and feeding by the parents. Rabbits are born naked and blind into fur-lined nests in burrows below ground. They stay in the nest tended to by their mother for a couple of weeks.
Hares are precocial; meaning they are born in an advanced state and able to feed themselves almost immediately. Hares are born above ground, furry and open-eyed, and cared for in the open. Less than five minutes after birth they are able to hop and can leave the nest almost immediately. Hares on average grow larger than rabbits and have longer legs, feet, and ears.
When danger is afoot, rabbits will hide whereas hares will flee. Rabbits are more social and tend to live in groups, whereas hares enjoy their solitude with the exception of mating. All rabbits and hares, or Lagomorphs, can see nearly 360 degrees, with their blind spot at the bridge of the nose, and they can sleep with their eyes open.
Lagomorphs are believed to have existed at least 53 million years ago; the modern rabbit families developing around 35 million years ago, although little is known about rabbits in prehistoric times. Lagomorphs are located on every continent except Antarctica, and are a vital part of nature’s food chain; being eaten by a vast majority of predators across the globe; mammal, avian, and reptilian alike.
Rabbits have been involved with humans from an early stage; initially and primarily as a food source, and then developing as a part of our artistic and theological culture. Archaeologists have evidence of people hunting rabbits in the South of France 120,000 years ago, and a famous cave painting of rabbits in Le Gabillou, France dates to 25,000 B.C.E. A recent study has shown that during the last ice age (40,000-10,000 years ago), early modern humans and the last of the Neanderthals may have survived on diets made up largely of rabbit.
The Saxons/ Germanic: Festivals celebrating the Goddess Eostre/Oestre, took place at the Spring Equinox. She is often depicted with a hare’s head or ears and with her favorite white hare standing by her side. This hare laid colored eggs. All hares were sacred to her, and were her messengers. It is also believed she could change into a hare on a full moon. Eostre represented birth, renewal, love, fertility, the sunrise, redemption, and renewal of life. Her followers would make offerings of milk and honey, as well as colored eggs, which were given to children. These ancient pagan tradition survived and are continued today in the modern secular form as the Easter bunny.
The Celts: Rabbits and hares were used for divination and other shamanic practices by studying the patterns of their tracks, the rituals of their mating dances, and mystic signs within their entrails. It was believed that rabbits burrowed underground in order to better commune with the spirit world, and that they could carry messages from the living to the dead and from humankind to the faeries. It was generally believed that female rabbits could conceive and give birth without contact with the male of the species, and thus virginal white rabbits appear in biblical pictures. “The Madonna with the rabbit”; a painting done by Titian in 1530 shows the Virgin Mary holding a pure white rabbit.
Boudicca the Celtic warrior queen was said to have released a hare as a good omen before each battle and to divine the outcome of battle by the hare’s movements. She took a hare into battle with her to ensure victory and it was said to have screamed like a woman from beneath her cloak.
Americas Mythology: In Aztec Mythology the Centzon Totochtin (“Four-hundred Rabbits”) was a group of deities who acted collectively as the “Dionysus of Mexico”, the divine little gods of drink and drunkenness. In the folklore of some Southeastern American Indian tribes (like the Cherokee), it was the trickster Rabbit Jistu, who stole fire and brought it to the people.
Asia; Jade Rabbit, maker of medicine for the Chinese gods, lives on the moon and is often depicted with a mortar and pestle.
Egyptians: Coincidentally; in Egyptian myth, hares were closely associated with the cycles of the moon, which was viewed as masculine when waxing and feminine when waning. A hare-headed god and goddess can be seen on the Egyptian temple walls of Dendera, where the female is the goddess Unut and the male is representation of Osiris, who was sacrificed to the Nile annually in the form of a hare. In ancient Egypt the hare was used as a Hieroglyph for the word denoting existence.
Greeks: Hares were also associated with Artemis the Greek goddess of wild places and the hunt, and newborn hares were not to be killed but left to her protection. Rabbits were sacred to Aphrodite, the goddess of love, beauty, and marriage—for rabbits had “the gift of Aphrodite” (fertility) in great abundance. The gift of a rabbit was a common love token from a man to his male or female lover. In Rome, the gift of a rabbit was intended to help a barren wife conceive. Carvings of rabbits eating grapes and figs appear on both Greek and Roman tombs, where they symbolize the transformative cycle of life, death, and rebirth. Hares were likewise believed to be androgynous, shifting back and forth between the genders up until the 18th century.
Romans: More than 2,000 years ago, the Romans systematically exported European rabbits too many countries, through a vast trade network; the Silk Road. They were the first to set up large operations for the production of breeding and raising of rabbits, done in large stretches of enclosed acres, called “warrens”-what I like to call a “free-for-all”.
The Romans caught, sold, traded and ate them, but they were not responsible for the deliberate domestication of rabbits.
Irish: A symbol known as The Three Hares, or “The Tinner’s Rabbits” in Ireland, shows three hares chasing each other in an unbroken circle. Each of the ears is shared by two hares, so that only three ears are shown. Like the triskelion, the symbol of the three hares has a threefold rotational symmetry. Although its meaning is unknown, it is thought to have symbolic or mystical associations. It appears in diverse locations across Europe and some believe its meaning is tied to fertility, rebirth and the lunar cycle. When used in Christian churches, it is presumed to be a symbol of the Trinity. The earliest occurrences of this symbol appear to be in Buddhist cave temples in China, dated to the 6th / 7th centuries. The Three Hares also appears on 13th century Mongol metalwork, as well as a copper coin found in Iran, dated to 1281.
Catholic Monks: The domestication of rabbits is credited to medieval French monks, dating to the beginning of the 6th century, 500-1000 CE. Living in the Champagne region of France developed the earliest standard domestic breed; a Silver aptly called the “Champagne D’Argent” in 1500. (A breed I am currently raising) Then rabbit meat gained even more popularity; the Catholic Empire deemed rabbit fit for consumption during Lent, in the same way fish was. Comparatively; Caesar recorded that rabbits were taboo foods to the Celtic tribes.
Rabbits as Pets: It is thought that around the Middle ages is when noblewomen first started keeping rabbits as pets, but it was not until the Victorian era that rabbits as pets really took hold. And by the 1800’s, the domestic keeping and breeding of rabbits for meat and furs was done by all social levels of people and was no longer solely dominated by the rich or the royals. In more modern times, Neapolitan, Beatrix Potter and even Clint Eastwood had pet rabbits.
I had written a blog article before this one about why I had decided to start raising meat rabbits on our farm. This was going to be a continuing series, with the next write up being about butchering the rabbits and preparing their meat. I did not end up writing anymore in this series.
The original blog article posted with accompanying photos: http://ohiothoughtsblog.blogspot.com/2015/02/rabbits-natural-and-cultural-history.html
The sky flickers like an off-channel TV screen, the black and white fuzzy flashing. Sunflower cover the horizon, their shadows playing with me in the dark, casting lies against the side of the barn. I swear I can see the outline of a man, hunkered below their heavy drooping heads. A gust of wind makes them bend and shake, playing tricks on my eyes again and again. Am I still alone here in this barn? I become nervous, pulling my Winchester pocket knife out, opening it up, and squeezing it in my left hand while I write. It was all so strange, sitting on the lowest bales of hay, watching the heat lightening on the East side of the barn. The chickens are much bigger now than the stout fuzzy bodies they had a month ago. They softly fluff their feathers and cluck under their breath, the straw beneath them rustling as they stir their feet. The rain on the barn roof came down in a light mist, until finally, the skies opened up and large dense drops fell and splashed to the wheat fields and barn below. The wind blew in through the broken windows and whistled through my ears, tossing about my paper and all the tufts of hay that stuck out awkwardly and messy from their bales; frail bodies shaking.
The glass beads, strung up on the back porch, rattled and clicked as the wind picked up; the trees, swaying south in the breeze.
Our refrigerator sounds like a bullfrog.
His fur shined like a prism against the sunlight; every hair a rainbow of color.
Where is my cat? He should be able to smell me. These Kansas winds constantly blow, taking my scent to his little wet nose, sniffing the ground in a distant cornfield.
The cellar door is open and a fan is on and blowing somewhere below. The kitchen window is propped open by another fan and the cicada songs penetrate loudly inside the room. The counters are littered with mason jars and coffee mugs. Tomatoes fresh from the garden, and various pots and pans. The oven clock tells me it’s 12:19pm but it feels much earlier than that. We are going to keep working on opening up the cellar from the outside, and do some more digging. An activity that has thoughts of wet dark soil, and toads, and caves, and a wheelbarrow in my head.
The sky splashed over the treetops and gathered in pools at my feet.
Their teeth clicked like bone and steel.
My eyes are brown, reflecting like thermal pools in the sun. My hair, from my body catching up in years, will be white as the snow falling outside my window.
My fingers are numb; covered in cuts and scrapes, raw from working in the garden day in and day out.
The nights here are different. The stars and the prairie grasses brush cheeks. The foxtails and shooting stars dancing and flirting, swaying and twisting together. The only things existing in our world are those illuminated by our headlights, and the rest is black, and part of the sky surrounding us.
It’s harvest time here. Every field is full of giant metal machines, cutting and sorting and munching up and down the rows until the sun is nearly set. Sometimes, the fields at night are full of headlights and the roar of engines.
The streetlights in town hang like black cocoons from their metal posts.
The barn lights dot the horizon for miles, being mistaken for bright stars in constellations.
Standing on the back porch, I see the first snow of the year. The barn roof has become soft and white. The junipers dark green salted with snowflakes. It falls slow but steady, a pattern of frozen water whose patterns are never the same. My blonde hair is frozen with diamonds. The smoothness of the coated yard is broken up by four sets of dog prints, and tire tracks from the truck.
Bees have been following me all day as I wander around in the sunlight.
I collected rocks from the road as we walked. Stopping constantly to stoop and pick up the pink, yellow, white pebbles. By the time we got home, my pockets were plenty weighed down with them. I pulled them all out; the flat circular grey stones stacked like poker chips in my hand, and deposited them next to the soft small ones that looked like a pile of jelly beans on the table. Now, they all sit in a glass jar, waiting for you to come home.
Every window in our sunlight bedroom,
is adorned with dried flowers and rocks.
Stuffed with broken glass and quarts crystals.
Onions and bird nests displayed so delicately,
Next to the sun-bleached insect skins.
The roe buck was dead.
The snow mounded around his lifeless body half concealing him.
His antlers grew out from his sad head,
an echo of his power and strength in life.
His legs lay out at awkward angles,
white tongue lolling from the side of his mouth,
out from between his flat teeth and lips stretched thin and pale.
He had fallen into death some time ago;
his fur falling from the hide in piles around him,
unto the ground and the snow.
Rough naked patches of flesh spotting his body,
the skin ripped and shredded open along the spine and ribs.
The remnants of coyotes feasting upon the carcass for their dinner.
The bones still had meat clinging to them in places,
and the rotting sac of organs beneath the rib cage exuding no smell,
frozen in the mid Winter chill.
It seemed that all he was,
everything that made him a deer,
was slowly falling away into the snow.
The only remaining legacy of life; his empty black eyes.
And in the Spring,
all that would remain would be his bare bones
scattered across the ground.
At night I hear the crickets talking to me,
their black backs
slick and reflective
against the moon.
When the sun comes up,
I leave the doors ajar so
one
by
one
they come inside to hide
under the chests and in the corners of the room;
their Morse code of clicks and chirps
a metronome for my writing hand.