You Know You're In England When.....

Before I tell this story, you must understand that living in the country necessarily means that we are surrounded by wild animals at all times. In my case, these critters range broadly from rabbits to first-years. Every morning and every evening, and even sometimes throughout the day, I see little rabbits munching on grass at the edges of Bader (my res). It is a constant source of awe and amusement, and we never get tired of seeing their ears prick up at the sound of our approach, and their tentative gaze before flipping around and prancing away, their cotton tails bouncing behind them (so cute). 

This morning, not so cute. It's common to see small groups of people, usually three our four adults, taking walks around the area with their dogs. Walking back from breakfast today, my friends and I noticed that this particular group had two dogs....one of which had the flopping carcass of a rabbit dangling from its mouth. Needless to say we were all horrified and had to stifle our exclamations of protest as to not offend the victorious hunting party. Upon further observation, I noted that one of the dogs strongly resembled a wolf, and was likely the culprit of the crime. The other dog was a scruffy patchy pup who couldn't have possibly caught the bunny, and yet was carrying it proudly between his jaws. I'm guessing that the former is the catcher, and the latter is the designated carrier. Such teamwork....it makes me sick.

So there you go, an account of a genuine English experience: watching the return of a successful hunt. 

Also, yesterday I entered my room to find a fat squirrel being cheeky on my window sill. After yelling unrepeatable slurs in its direction (at which it took off) I saw that it had been into my honey roasted peanuts, which were now scattered across my desk. I though it was kind of funny...and really I should have seen it coming, but mostly I was frustrated about losing my nuts. 

Bloody countryside.