Chapter 4: The Crop

Peter hadn't been swallowed a moment too soon. Mrs. McGreggor came back in the room. This time she noticed the blood. The fact that she hadn't noticed it last time didn't faze her. Perhaps, she thought, she just hadn't looked well enough.

"Thirsty girl? Looks like you've drank all your water. Here is some milk." She filled her water tray with milk, which Agnes drank. This soon landed on top of Peter. The young rabbit was annoyed at being hit by the saliva-laden milk, but he could do nothing about it. Unlike in a stomach, where it would eventually be dissolved, it just lingered, soaking into his clothes, in Agnes' crop.

"What just hit me?" he asked.
"Milk. She gave me some and I drank it because I was thirsty."
"I'm thirsty too. It's very hot in here."
"Feel free to drink some."
"Drink this? But you already drank it!"
"I know. I'm afraid it's the best you'll be getting for a few days."
"Days?"
"I'm afraid so."
Peter held his nose and drank the milk, which didn't taste as bad as he thought it would. However, he had another problem, besides his thirst. "This really itches!" he whined.
"What, the milk?"
"No, I pooped in the woods this morning and used this plant to wipe my butt. Now my butt and my balls really itch."
"I'm afraid you used poison ivy."
"Poison ivy?"
"Yes. This will continue to itch for a good while, I'm afraid."
"Damn it!" he cursed out loud.

At that moment, the sphincter beneath him opened, not enough for him to fall through, but enough to release the gas that had exited her stomach and made its way up into the crop. It exited her beak with a loud BRRRRRUP! a moment later.
"Ew!" the young rabbit gagged.
"Sorry, I guess my meal from last night is repeating on me."

Time slowly went by for Peter as he languished inside of the hawk's crop. The rabbit felt very hot, as there was no cool air inside the bird's body. Thus, he drank the milk, which became less and less appetizing the longer it sat in the crop. After an hour of being inside the bird, however, he ran into a situation where it was no longer feasible to drink the milk.
"I hafta pee!" the rabbit moaned.
"If you gotta go, you gotta go."
"But if I go, then the milk will be tainted with piss."
"Do what you think is best."
Peter did. After drinking the milk one final time, he felt that he could no longer hold it off, it having been hours since he'd peed that morning. He unzipped his pants, pulled out his penis, and emptied his bladder. His bladder felt relived, but now he had nothing to quench his thirst anymore.
It wasn't just the hot air that had been making him thirsty. True to his word, Peter had been rubbing her crop for the past hour or so. Agnes liked the feeling, for it felt like an internal massage, which, in fact, it was. However, the movement made Peter hotter and sweatier than he would have been had he just lain there in the crop.

After two more hours of this, he took off his shirt and pants. After all, nobody, including he himself, could see himself in here after all.

An hour later, it was lunch time. Mr. McGreggor came to bring Agnes her lunch, a rat that he'd caught in a trap. Agnes was pleased to finally have something to eat, since Peter technically didn't count.

Speaking of Peter, he soon was hit with chunks of meat and fur. He quickly put back on his shirt and pants, for he had forgotten about the danger of falling food and didn't want his underwear soiled. "What just hit me?" he asked. "My lunch." "I kinda figured that. Could you be more specific?" "Yes. A rat that they gave me." "Yecccch!" "Hawks have to eat too." "I suppose." He felt something poking him. As he ran his hands along it, he soon realized that it was a bone. "You swallowed a bone!" "I know." "Doesn't it hurt you anus when you poop it out?" "It's called a cloaca, how many times do I have to tell you!" "Ok, a cloaca, whatever. Doesn't it hurt?" "No." "Wonder why it doesn't." "Because I don't poop it out." "So, does it just stay inside of you forever?" "No. I spit it up as a pellet." "A pellet?" "Fur and bones and stuff like that. Makes it so I don't have to poop it out, which is good, as it would be hard on the vent.

"The vent? I thought you called it a cloaca."

"Same thing."

"Can you spit me back up as a pellet so that I don't have to be pooped out your cloaca?"

"I'm afraid I can't do that. You're too big. It's only meant for fur and bones and things like that."

"Oh."

Agnes drank some water. Peter was glad for this, as it was hot inside her crop. As he'd ruined the milk she'd drank hours earlier when he had to pee, he drank the water as he fell on him. Though it was tainted with saliva, it still tasted good to him since he was so thirsty.

After two more hours, something finally happened. The food in the hawk's first stomach had finally moved to her gizzard. At around 2:30 PM, Peter and the rest of the contents of Agnes' crop were squeezed downward, finally coming to rest in another chamber.