At Silflay, Two Rabbits

I wasn't able to get the other one in the picture, but there's a warren living in and around Albany. I've seen at least six all at once, darting in and out of the tall grass or the piles of cut brambles, and they've made visible burrows into the little mounds near The Wall and the play structures on the beach walk. I read Watership Down freshman year of college, and I have a very soft spot for it among the many books that jostle for my affections; so being in the presence of, you know, British Rabbits is kind of awesome. Adams is a more accessible, gentler version of Tolkien, in a way - they both developed their own languages - with the same knowing English prose, with a world that doesn't beckon so much as envelops you in its undeniable, deep, riveting realness. It was one of the three books I brought for my campers, but they wanted nothing in the way of reading aloud.

As for my first weekdaysend of term in St. Andrews, all Scots are drunkards. The British also. That is all.