From Start To Finish

Did I ever tell you the story of how this blog came about? Oh right, I sort of did. Well...forget about that. Let me tell you again.

I arrived at the RRR back in February of 2008. I was looking for a pair of bunnies to adopt but, knowing nothing about rabbits, I wanted to volunteer for a few weekends to make sure bunnies were for me. Well, of course, they were. My only previous experience of volunteering was the odd Xmas party for senior citizens or bits and pieces for schools when I was younger. I was completely new to animal rescue volunteering but after just one afternoon I was hooked. For the first time in my life since I had left the teaching profession, my life felt like it had a deeper meaning.

Harrison, brother of Whisky

I had an image in my head of what I expected bunnies to be from a few photos I'd seen of cute bunnies on websites and was not expecting the vast variety of breeds I encountered at the Rescue. Having only experienced cats and dogs in my own family it also took me a while to understand their personalities. The first bunnies I met at the RRR that I fell for were a pair of brothers that resembled the image I had in my head - Whisky and Harrison. They were not together as a pair though as they had been separated ready to find wives and I was a few months off building my outdoor rabbit accommodation anyway so I didn't consider them a realistic option regardless.

Santa and Jemima at the RRR

Eventually I did adopt a wonderful pair:- Santa and Jemima. Neither red-eyed-whites nor Rexes had appealed to me initially, but once I'd got to know them I wasn't so worried about their breed, it was all about their personality. They quickly became the most important part of my life and I loved them dearly. To me they were like children, so much so that my girlfriend of the time told me later that this was one of the reasons she left me - the fatherly love I showed them dwarfed any emotion I had ever shown towards her. Plus, she was continually frustrated at my repeatedly cancelling any plans we had at the slightest sniff that one of them might be unwell.

My enthusiasm for my bunnies was evident to anyone who ever asked about them. Like any excited parent, I could talk about them for hours. They made me laugh every day with their silly antics and I would enjoy just watching them go about their rabbity business. The trouble was, outside of the Rescue, few people I knew were interested in rabbits, so my stories of Santa and Jemima's adventures would be bottled up and explode out of me in long tales rambled at Caroline on a Saturday. Whilst she was happy to hear about them, I think it was probably a bit much and didn't help productivity on those days, so perhaps that's why she encouraged me to start a blog about it. We decided it would be good to have a mix of my own rabbits stories and those of the bunnies at the Rescue and so "Big Ears, Tiny Tales" was born.

Did you ever wonder why our URL was always bunniestotherescue when the blog is called Big Ears, Tiny Tales? When I was setting it up I had come up with three possible titles. As well as the one we ended up with, I floated "Bunnies To The Rescue" and "Chompin' At The Savoy" (a reference to an old jazz tune). There was no real preference expressed by the others in the team, so in the end I picked bunniestotherescue for the simple reason that I thought it was easier to pick out the words from the URL. I created the blog that way, but after a while the name "Big Ears, Tiny Tales" grew on me so much that I decided that was definitely the one. I guess I could have changed it to bigearstinytales, I probably should have, but it just didn't look right so I left it. And there you have it - soon it was linked from our website and referenced all over so it was too late.

Sushi in my garden, 2012. Why? No reason. Except otherwise you'd be looking at too many paragraphs of text right about now, so...

In the early days, there were three blogs featuring rabbits that I read regularly. The first was the My House Rabbit blog. It was sort of a mix of what the rabbits in the author's family got up to with some hints and tips, care advice and general rabbit-related world news. Then there was Cute Overload, a general animal blog of cute photos with captions and short articles, it was a great site which both chronicled the evolution of cuteness on the web and directed it. Finally was the supreme king of all bunny blogs, Disapproving Rabbits. This was a simple "one photo with caption" daily blog, but the captions were so tremendously well written, often with references to literature and culture, it was regularly laugh-out-loud hilarious. This was the blog landscape I tried to fit Big Ears, Tiny Tales into (OK, I'm gonna call it BETT from this point on), but while it took some inspiration from those other blogs it remained very much its own thing - a (sometimes humorous) chronicle of the goings on at a UK rabbit rescue as well as my personal experiences of living with rabbits at home.

From the start, I had intended for the blog to be a group effort. Whilst I was to take the lead and likely be the most regular contributor, I set it up for a number of the volunteers, including Caroline, to be able to post. Whilst they were as enthusiastic as I was about having the blog, they rarely found time to write anything for it. Apart from a few times when I took breaks for work trips or when one of my fluffy family passed away and I couldn't bring myself to write about the joy of rabbits, the rest of the team pretty much left me to it.

Colin, former volunteer and MD of the charity. (Only managed to write one post on the blog, but could always find time to share an apple with his favourite trio.)

The biggest change to BETT began in April 2012. I had been reading up on how to improve the blog and one of the most important pieces of advice that I found was that the blog should have regularly scheduled posts - if you want people to keep coming back, they need to know when to expect new tales. Around this time a number of other exciting rabbit blogs had emerged: Speedy the House Rabbit, The Zen of Bun, Two Bunny Blog, A Houseful of Rabbits. They were all great blogs, but Disapproving Rabbits was still ahead of them in two very important ways: Firstly it was daily - DR readers were returning every morning to see the latest disapproving face and read the hilariously fitting caption over their morning coffee/commute. Secondly, because it was driven by reader photo submissions, it had an infinite variety of stars. This was something the other blogs, generally based on the handful of rabbits in peoples own families, couldn't match. It occurred to me that here, with RRR being possibly the single biggest rabbit rescue in the UK and with a constant turnover of residents, we had something bloggable that no one else could match. As well as a large cast of long-term characters, we had a rolling line of new and interesting faces with their own stories to tell. So that was it - I decided to give it a go and on 20th April 2012 BETT became a daily blog.

I figured I would run BETT daily for a while and see how it went. The first month was exciting as I started to learn new skills of listening to what our residents had to say and interpreting them for the blog. The photo part came easy, I was already taking sometimes over a hundred photos in a week trying to get good shots for the website and other things. The harder parts to it seemed to be rearranging the funny things the residents said to end on a punchline (bunnies don't always deliver their gags in human-friendly form) and editing down the words into the shortest possible way of reaching that punchline. Again, there was often a not-surprising amount of fluff and build-up the way they told it. Sometimes it even needed a complete re-write to deliver their hilarity in a way that made sense in a few frames and lines - lots of Googling literary references, quotes and the like. In fact, another surprisingly difficult thing was coming up with a title for each post.

To make things harder on myself, I even set some rules to follow for the titles:

• Never repeat a title
• They should always favour puns (to match the style of the blog's title)
• Where possible, the post title should be a pun on, or reference to, the title of a movie, song, book etc.

It's the sort of thing that starts out OK but just keeps getting harder as time goes on. You'll see this gradually being abandoned (to a degree) over time if you look back through the old posts, though I hope we never repeated a title. But perhaps if you hadn't realised about the movie/song thing you can have fun trying to spot them all! As time went on, we also had song lyrics, movie stars names etc.

Whisky in the garden, 2012

One thing that did make the blog much easier to maintain was that, by the time it became daily, Whisky had moved into my house and become properly part of my family. Living with a house bunny with as much energy and character as Whisky had, I could never run out of tales to tell. Sure, he had a lot of medical things going on for the whole of his life to talk about, but mostly he was just a bunny who enjoyed himself and provided unlimited entertainment for anyone who witnessed it. He could have had his own daily blog and filled it if he'd wanted to, but his Sunday posts seemed a good balance of sharing his life and letting him get on with it. He naturally has more posts currently than any other bunny on this blog, as a result of those weekly updates, and I've been told was considered the heart of it by many of our readers. When Whisky died last December, I had to consider if I could continue BETT without him. Fundamentally though, this blog is for the bunnies of the RRR to communicate their thoughts to the world and thankfully Pandoren stepped in to keep it going.

Pandoren was the Animal Care Assistant employed to run the day-to-day workings of the RRR, as well as having been a weekend volunteer for some time, she was the natural choice and she seemed to enjoy it. Having myself dropped down to just two days a month regular volunteering, I was hoping to hand it over to her completely at that point, but it didn't work out. Maintaining a daily blog is quite a commitment for someone who regularly works long days like the ACA does, so with no one else on the team able to spare the time to contribute I filled the days on the blog she couldn't cover. When Caroline left the Rescue to pursue a different life for herself, Pandoren stepped up to become manager so she had even less time, though she continued to post when she could, but it meant again I took responsibility for the daily posting. Things changed again at the Rescue over the summer, with Caroline back and her family heavily involved in the daily running of the site, Pandoren felt it impractical for her to continue in the management post and gave notice. While she enjoyed a final blast of posts during her last weeks, again it fell to me to continue BETT on her departure.

Mars, October 2016

One thing I must say about the blog, which has jumped into my head quite randomly as I am writing here, is that it is highly valued by all the volunteers at the Rescue. Mainly because we have terrible memories and without it we'd struggle to remember who all Mars' husbuns were.

With all the changes and improvements this year, there is now a new and very capable team running RRR, headed by Caroline and a few very dedicated volunteers and ACAs. It seems to me that, if ever there was going to be one, now is the right time for me to move on. You probably guessed that was coming from the length of this post, right?! It's not that I am breaking all ties with the Rescue (I can't - Sprat still sends me messages demanding treats - he really does!), but for now I am off the regular volunteer rota and my previous responsibilities for the Rescue are covered by others in the new team. It has been a long and educational ride being a big part of RRR and running BETT and, despite all the drama, challenges and tragedies, a mostly enjoyable one.

I have one last post lined up for tomorrow before I depart, but besides that this is a 'goodbye' from me. At least for now. I hope you have enjoyed my posts here on BETT, I have certainly enjoyed and appreciated your comments and support over the years. I wish you all the best for the future and leave you (starting Tuesday) in the capable hands of one of the most dedicated volunteers I have met at RRR...but I will let her introduce herself!

Love and peace (and bunnies, always bunnies), BHV.

Oh, and if you start to miss me, don't forget you can always pop over to my other blog and leave me a comment!

My Boy Santa

I was technically on holiday this last week, which mostly involved finishing off lots of little jobs in the house and garden. It also involved a trip to Brighton, though due to the constant threat of the incoming storm I didn't see much of Brighton itself.

By a small coincidence, I suddenly realised I had been in Brighton exactly four years previously. So what had started out as a pleasant trip to visit friends became for a brief moment a time of sadness, a time to reflect on the little fluffy boy I lost on returning from a similar trip in 2010. My dearest Santa, who I came home to find unwell on 8th August that year and passed away two days later. He was my first fluffy boy and the first bunny I ever lost.

As always, I will think of him on this day, the anniversary of his passing, and as always I will miss him terribly.

Never Forgotten

My dear sweet Santa.

Today my memories of you fill my thoughts.

You were bright and friendly, bold and determined.

To me you were the perfect little friend and my floppy-eared child.

And to Jemima, our dear Jemima, you were the perfect companion.

I remember your bitter determination to communicate to me anything and everything you were thinking - you taught me more about bunnies than any book I read before or since.

Oh how I loved to watch you climb and explore, even when your complete lack of fear in the face of those seemingly impossible leaps across high places made me worry so.

Three years ago today you left this world, your life slipping away at just three and a half years old.

So today I will remember and think of you, even more so than I do every other day of the year.

And though I can no longer hold you in my arms, today I will hold you closer in my heart.

I miss you more than ever, my first and most special fluffy boy.

You will always be remembered.

My dear sweet Santa.

Digging My Scene

Once upon a time there lived two very wonderful bunnies called Santa and Jemima. Santa was a friendly white bunny with pink eyes and funny floppy ears. Jemima was a wise black bunny with sticky-up ears and velvety fur. Their human loved them so very much, he built them a shed to live in with a 10 foot run attached so they could play outside whenever they wanted.

And did the human stop there?! Certainly he did not! For this human knew that the bunnies who did not live with people had much bigger spaces to play in. So twice a day at the very least, with their human watching over them to keep them safe, Santa and Jemima's shed door was left open. With a hop and a jump, Santa and Jemima would run out into the garden to play on the grass. They would run very fast, they would jump very high and then they would EAT the grass - because that's what bunnies do! All this until they were tired and then their human would lead them back to their shed and run with a nice treat.

"Did someone say 'treat'?"

And did the human stop there?! Certainly he did not! For this human knew that the bunnies who did not live with people had much bigger spaces to play in still. So twice a day at the very least, with their human watching over them to keep them safe, with the shed door open so they could play on the grass, the door to the human house was opened too. With this extra space, those bunnies could run and run, in and out of the shed, over the grass, in and out of the house. Sometimes they would run from the near of the run to the far of the house without stopping and then back again! Sometimes they would play hide and seek with their human, disappearing behind the tunnels and bends and hidey places behind the sofas until it was time for their treat. This could make their human sad, because he worried so if he could not find them anywhere. But then a little fluffy head would appear from behind a chair and all would be right again! Even though this game sometimes made him sad, the human saw how happy it made his bunnies, so he always let them play behind the sofas and always smiled when they reappeared after their hide-and-seek games.

"We win! Now, you go hide and we'll try and find you. Or the food tub, whichever turns up (or over) first..."

One day, a new bunny arrived. This bunny was called Whisky and he had funny floppy ears like Santa, but unlike Santa he was grey like a pearl.

"I do not have a shed for you and I do not have a run" said the human, "for I only have the one and that one it is taken. But I can offer you a room in my house if you would like?"

The little grey bunny glared back at the human.

"I do not WANT to live outside. There are flies there and they try to lay eggs in my sickly bottom and my sickly eyes" he said. "Plus, I am sickly, and sickly bunnies become more sickly when exposed to the cold. So a room in your warm house I will take, kind sir, just lead onward and I shall follow."

The human nodded and took Whisky and his bags to his room.

"No, no, no, this won't do at all! Move my bed nearer the window then bring me three more tunnels and a plate of grated 'welcome carrots'."

Some time later, after his new guest had settled in, the human smelled a most peculiar smell. He hunted high and he hunted low but could he find from whence it came? No he could not!

"Do you smell that smell?" he asked his house-guest.

"I cannot say I know to what you refer" snorted Whisky.

Not five minutes later, Whisky disappeared behind the sofa for a few moments before returning to his seat.

"There it is again!" said the human. And when he searched again for this most peculiar smell, he discovered a most peculiar thing - the tiny house-guest had been using the corners of the room as a toilet!

Well after that the human blocked off those behind-the-sofa places and that little bunny Whisky was forced to use the litter tray for his toilet like everybunny else.

Some months passed, as, sadly, did those outdoor bunnies and even bunnies that came after. But then one day a new set of bunnies came to stay and with them came all manner of tasty food. One day while making their dinner, a couple of pellets of this food fell behind the sofa. As if by magic, Whisky appeared.

"Does my nose deceive me?" he asked. "Or does behind this mountainous sofa a land of delicious treats itself hide?"
But he could not climb this mountainous sofa. Nor could he go around it. And try as he might, he could not find a way through it.

"I know! I'll go under!" he cried.

So he dug and he dug and he dug and he dug.

And he dug and he dug and he dug and he dug.

"There is no magical land of snacks - they came from the pet-shop!" the human explained. But the little grey bunny would not listen.

So he dug and he dug and he dug and he dug.

And he dug and he dug and he dug and he dug.

The human looked at the result of all this effort. Several small scratches in the solid floor, nothing more. He felt sad for that bunny. So much effort with so little gain.

But then he had an idea.

"Look over there! Is that a carrot truck?" he called out.

"Where???!!!" Whisky replied and raced out of the room.

Quickly, the human took a big thick newspaper and placed it in the corner by the sofa.

"Must have missed it" said Whisky as he skipped back in.

"Not that there's anything stopping you grabbing me one from the kitchen and whacking it thru the grater, just sayin'...""

Quickly returning to his corner, Whisky began to dig. To his surprise and delight, big chunks of the floor came away under the mighty power of his claws. After all this time, he was finally getting somewhere!

Well dear readers, I can't tell you if that little bunny ever did reach that magical land of treats. But I do know he slept very soundly that night after tiring himself out with all that work. And do you know what? Seeing his little boy so happy and fulfilled, so did his human.

Now the clear up the next day? That's another story altogether.

Remembering

10th August 2010 - 2 years ago today.

Mopsy lifted her head and gently shook the sleep from her eyes. Pushing out her front paws into a huge stretch, she threw back her head and let out one last sleepy yawn before rising to tackle the day. Mopsy knew she was set for a long and tiring one as today was finally her turn to be the official "greeter". But remembering how much she appreciated the friendly welcoming face when she arrived, she was sort of looking forward to being that face for somebun else.

Arriving at the path just in time for the first of the new arrivals, Mopsy greeted them, told them about the place and listened to their tales. She was upbeat at first, but after she had welcomed a few into the meadow, Mopsy was actually starting to think it might make her sad to go through this over and over all day. But then she saw the effect the warm sunshine, luscious grass and brightly coloured flowers had on them as they moved past her, how the pain in their faces melted away as they ran happily about. After that Mopsy felt she "got it" more and all the following greetings started to go much better. By mid-morning Mopsy was settled in to the routine, and was feeling very positive again.

After a short break, there was again movement down the path. Sure enough, a little white figure came shuffling into view, moving uncomfortably towards her. As he came nearer, Mopsy recognised the owner of the sad little face, with his little pink eyes and the distinctive split up his right ear. She couldn't tell if Santa recognised her back though, if he did he didn't show it, but this didn't bother Mopsy since she knew how confusing things could be here at first.

"Where am I?" asked Santa, his broken voice a clear sign of the pain he was still feeling.

"Welcome to Rainbow Bridge" Mopsy replied. "You are safe now, among old friends."

As Santa continued to speak, the effects of being so close to the magical meadow and it's healing powers were beginning to sooth his voice. "How did I get here? I was alone and scared, my tummy hurt so much..."

"You have passed on from that place. Here there is only peace, little one."

Santa paused. He looked more relaxed, his physical pain gradually fading, but he was clearly still troubled. "Where's my daddy? Why did he leave me in that place to die alone and in pain?"

Mopsy moved to Santa's side to comfort him. "Your human loves you very much, more than anything else in the world. When he left you with those strange people he thought they could make your pain go away and return you to him, like they did when you were sick before. When they told him you were getting worse he was so sad he couldn't think. When he realised that you needed him, he wanted to be with you but it was too late and you were already gone."

After a few seconds thought, Santa went to speak again, but Mopsy already knew what he was going to ask. "You will see him again" she said. "One day he too will leave that world and find himself in this meadow."

"Will he remember me?" asked Santa. "I also left behind my beloved Jemima, and I know he will want to find another bunny to keep her warm at night - won't I be replaced in my daddy's heart?"

Mopsy stepped back and turned her head quickly around. As she did so her ears drew an arc in the air throwing up a sparkling shower of magical dust. As the dust floated downwards it created the appearance of a window, through which they could see the world below. There they could see Santa's human, heartbroken and wracked with grief. The image started to move quickly, as if it were a movie in fast-forward, and again and again they saw these emotions return to him as he recalled the little boy he so missed.

"My dear sweet Santa. You have touched this man's heart so very deeply, he will certainly remember you always. He will hang your pictures on his walls and delight in telling tales of you to all who come into his life. And though he may adopt many other little fluffy children, you will always be his first and most precious. Finally, when the day comes that he arrives here at the meadow, he will run to you as fast as he can, he'll lift you into his arms and never want to let you go. Then you will all cross the rainbow bridge together as a family, never again to be feel the pain of being parted from one another."

As the window faded, so with it the image of the grieving man, and even though she knew bunnies can't cry, Mopsy could swear she saw a tear fall from Santa's eye. But whatever she did see, in a second it was gone and he was smiling. Santa nodded and, like all the others before him, thanked her before starting off into the meadow. But then he stopped and called back to Mopsy.

"Do you have anything round here that's good for climbing on?" he asked with a grin. And then he was off.

Trying to decide if he can work the top off the tub of food with his paws, Nov 2009

Disapproving of my "old man" shoes, which Jemima had already chomped holes in, Nov 2009

From the last set of photo's I took of him, relaxing in the garden, July 2010.

Santa

If you are a regular reader of this blog, you will probably already know who Santa Bunny is. A sweet, loveable bunny like no other, my own little baby and companion. He came with Jemima to live with me in May 2008 and quickly became the very best thing in my life.

Always a very sensitive thing, Santa suffered a number of gastro-intestinal problems over the last two years. When he became ill again last Sunday it looked like he was in for another few days at the vets being nursed back to health, but this time was just one too many for his little system. Santa died around 11am on Tuesday 10th August 2010, just three and a half years old. My heart is still breaking.

Part of me didn't want to write this entry. It is very painful to remind myself that I have lost him. But as he was the original inspiration for starting this blog, it felt right to honour his life here somehow, so I have posted here two of my favourite pictures of him. They were both taken the same day in February and show two of Santa's best sides - the sweet, innocent, loveable boy who would sit patiently for you to take his picture and the crazy little monkey that you would find doing things you wouldn't expect. I hope this gives you a feeling of the dear little soul that I love and miss with all my heart.

Mixin it up on DJ Hero, Feb 2010

In The Bag

One of the things that makes bunnies such good house pets is that they are very easy to litter train. Once they have settled in to a new home, they will generally settle on a particular corner and into that corner you put the litter tray and the job is done. They are clean and tidy creatures, so once the toilet area is established they will stick to it and your nice carpets (and sofa) will be safe.

Having established this, you can also move the litter tray. This is especially useful if the corner they picked wasn't the one that you wanted them to use (why do they always pick the one by the door?). If you do this gradually, the bunnies will return to the same spot each time, see (well, probably smell) the tray and use it. Any, er, misunderstandings can be moved into the tray and they will soon get the idea.

Moving the tray quickly to another corner is asking for trouble. The bunnies will return to the original corner, finding no tray will just assume you have cleaned up for them and start again (just like if you'd put a clean tray back). Not only that, but when they find the tray elsewhere they'll take that as you green-lighting an additional toilet area and now you have two. This very thing has happened to me when I have placed a soiled tray down somewhere while I replace it and turned my back for a moment only to find a bunny using it. Then the next day, guess what? New pile of poo in that spot. Be warned. Anyway..

There is something I would like to touch on here, another word of warning really. The religious using of the litter tray without accident can be quickly disrupted if you do anything to disturb their routine or incur their wrath. If, for example, you were to bring home some temporary foster bunnies and let them play in your (their) garden you will quickly discover that your bunnies will make you pay for this crime by giving to you the gift of an afternoon of picking their poo out of the grass. From across the whole lawn. The books will tell you this is a territorial thing as they try to claim back their space from the interlopers, but I tell you now, I've seen revenge in their eyes as they glare back at me... Moving on.

Now, the reason I mention all this today is that Santa and Jemima have recently altered their own morning routine. Rather than hopping back into their fresh litter trays for their big post-breakfast clearout, they've found a new spot.

"Hang on, I'll be done in just a minute."

Now if I can only train all the bunnies at the Rescue to do this (and not just at breakfast) the cleaning out will suddenly get a whole lot easier...

'S No Fun

Well, not much activity on this blog for a few weeks. I mostly blame the weather. We have just lived through a month of rain, which has meant miserable bunnies staring out from underneath hutches and inside sheds not wanting to come out and play (well, the sensible ones anyway). But the rain has now passed, replaced with frost and snow. Oh joy.

And not just a little bit of snow. It kicked off with about 10cm in 6 hours. So this weekend I am, basically, snowed in. I cannot get to the Rescue (in fact Royston has been on the news as one of the worst hit towns in the region) so I have taken up residence on the sofa for a few days with the TV, my laptop and occasionally some very grumpy bunnies.

The snow appears to have brought great joy to many of my colleagues, neighbours and friends, who are spending their days away from work/school frolicking in cold wet sludge. Caroline tells me the bunnies at the Rescue are also enjoying themselves, running madly about and playing in the curious white blanket that covers the ground, the like of which many of them have never seen before.

My own opinion of snow is more like that of Alex P. Keaton. And, once again proving that Caroline does an excellent job matching bunnies to people, S+J are totally with me on this.

Santa has been grumpy for weeks as the temperature has been gradually dropping. One morning he failed to notice me come in with his breakfast as he was so busy re-arranging the hay in his bedroom to try and make himself warmer (also partly my fault – I may have over-compensated with the straw earlier in the week and they pretty much had to burrow their way back in to go to bed). He doesn’t like the cold. When he woke up to thick snow Friday morning, he peered at it suspiciously from the doorway before seeming to decide that he was “cold enough thank you very much” and disappeared back inside refusing to come out of the shed for the rest of the day.

Jemima also hates snow. With her short Rex fur already giving her little protection and consequently regular problems with sore feet, she can’t bear to walk on anything cold or wet. She came bounding out, but as soon as her feet hit the snow she panicked, flew across the garden at great speed and disappeared into the house. When it came time to put bunnies back in their house, I couldn’t persuade her to come out of mine.

We all became a little more accustomed to the weather over the course of the weekend. By Sunday, all three of us were willing to spend up to several minutes in the garden, though it was inevitably followed with some quality time indoors in front of the radiator. Once her nose was dry, Jemima went on to her daily task of making all the hay disappear, while Santa decided to work on his on-going project to find the highest lagomorphically-accessible point in the lounge. Via a pile of cushions, the back of the sofa and a bookshelf he managed to surpass his previous record by about a foot and seemed very proud of himself.

It doesn’t look like the weather is going to clear this side of Xmas, which probably means more days of disapproval from the little ones, but at least I am having more time to spend with them. Still, I can’t wait til the roads clear and I can get back to the Rescue – or maybe Santa (the other one) will bring me a new 4x4 car for Xmas? Here’s hoping.

Chomp!!!

Yesterday I had the bitter-sweet pleasure of "Claw Day" with S+J, which to the casual observer is a cross between amateur manicure and professional wrestling. The plus for me is that during the procedure I get to cuddle my bunnies as if they were teddy bears. The down side is they hate it, hate it, hate it and are quite prepared to convey this point using all available forms of communication. Depending on their mood, this could include grunting, scratching, stamping or even biting. This month I got off fairly lightly. Beforehand, there was a moment where both bunnies simultaneously realised that the preparation of grooming tools and coiled body language could only mean one thing. A brief cartoon-style chase followed, involving some clambering behind the sofa by all parties. After the event, Jemima decided to explain to me that the post-clipping-reward-snack was of insufficient proportions, chomping down hard on my coat and trying to drag me across the room. It may have been a coincidence that this was in the direction of the tub of pellets from which she felt she should be further rewarded.

On Claw Day last month, Jemima decided much earlier in the proceedings that she was unimpressed with my efforts. Before I could even start on the first paw she came to the conclusion that her grunts of disapproval were being unfairly ignored and felt she needed to explain in terms I could not ignore. She promptly chomped my hand.

As a part-time bunny-wrangler for the Rescue, being gently (and not so gently) chomped by bunnies comes with the territory. I doubt there's a single long-serving volunteer here who hasn't been caught out by a nervous newly arrived individual, a bunny who has seen a hand coming into its home and mistaken breakfast delivery for an attack or territorial invasion. Even Caroline, after years of being able to predict when a bunny is grumpy and about to pounce, has been caught out a couple of times checking-in new arrivals. Then there are also the bunnies who, like Jemima and countless others, are not at all aggressive but use light chomping just to tell you something, usually that you are in their way or to stop ignoring them!

Flora, Jemima, Bigwig and Bruce. Friendly,
adorable, but very, very chompy.

My point is, as bunny people, being chomped is a common occurrence that is driven either by utter, desperate fear or to convey something to you that you just don't seem to be getting. Not surprising then that this story of a bunny at an American Humane Society centre that has been scheduled to be put down for biting one of the staff has been enraging the rabbit-loving community across the globe:

Link: Doomed Local Rabbit at Komo News

See also the update here.

Komo News' explanation of the incident seems to be that the severity of the bite, requiring the recipient to seek proper medical attention, is the centre's justification for terminating the rabbits life. However, the American Humane Society have subsequently released their own statement suggesting that the bite was not the reason for ordering the termination, only one of the symptoms of the rabbits dire physical and mental condition:

Link: Response by the Humane Society

Since I find it hard to believe that an organisation so dedicated to animal welfare would take the decision on a bunny's life lightly, I want to believe the Humane Society's version and suspect the original story is yet another case of sensationalist journalism. On the other hand, why when approached by local rabbit rescues with offers to take Copper did they not communicate the facts of the case sufficiently to prevent further protests, or provide them the opportunity to have the rescues own rabbit experts offer a second opinion and thus avoid becoming the villains of this story? According to their official response:

"Every year, the Humane Society receives about 90 rabbits, finds homes for about 70 of them, and has to euthanize about 20 for medical or behavioral issues."

This sounds to me like they are digging themselves a bigger hole. Surely:

• 22 percent is quite a big proportion to consider a lost cause (I will check our figures and respond later with a comparison)
• Medical or behavioural issues? So does this mean they DO terminate bunnies who are just grumpy from mistreatment, rather than provide the costly long term rehabilitation needed to rehome them?

Whatever the real situation here, I am pretty sure that the Pierce County Humane Society will be finding their working practises coming under very close scrutiny over the coming weeks.

NOTE: Since writing this entry I have discovered that the page I linked to on the Tacoma and Pierce County Humane Society website has become unavailable. Read into that what you will. I will leave the link as-is for now in the hope that it returns...

Suspects

I own a house. This is pretty much a necessity for me. When a letting agent asks what your basic requirements are and you start with "Somewhere where it's easy to clean woodshavings and hay from all the floors and surfaces, and where tiny fluffy creatures are welcome to chew everything within two feet of an accessible surface..." it rarely goes well from that point. So I own a house. There are currently six of us living at the property, usually harmoniously. But today, while I was preparing breakfast, someone broke one of the most important of the house rules and I need to figure out who. So let's look at the suspects.

First up is one Mr Santa Bunny. A wiley character this. Take your eye off him for a second and when you turn back he'll be looking straight back at you, eye-level, from atop a bookshelf. (Look down and you will see a pile of anything you had inconsiderately left on the shelves that might have slowed his ascent.) A definite candidate for mischief this one. But now that I think of it, I know for a fact that at the time of the incident he was in the shed diligently throwing everything from inside out on to the lawn. So I guess it wasn't him.

Our next suspect is the huge black lump known as Jemima Bunny. She has a different party trick to Santa - turn your back on her for a second and she will make anything resembling food in a 10 metre radius disappear. Vegetables, leaves, electrical cable. Nothing that will fit in her mouth is safe. But again, now I think of it, at the time of the incident Jemima was in the garden rapidly digging her way to Australia, so I guess she's out too.

Ahhh, Megan Bunny! My little angel. Sweet, timid and gentle. When she wants something she will politely come and ask for it. Megan was definitely in the vicinity at the time of the incident. She certainly had the opportunity to commit this offence, but not the motive. She loves positive attention and treats and wouldn't risk jeapordizing either. Megan is my little angel and certainly not the rule breaking type. So I don't think it's her.

And so we come to Whisky, crazy, crazy Whisky. So crazy but also so very, very cuddly. Imagine if you attached an out-of-control rocket to a teddy bear and you will start to get an idea of what Whisky bunny is like. He hurtles around the place with his cute little ears bouncing and flapping all over as he goes. Then he stops for a bit and does the cutest little bunny stretch-and-yawn you ever did see!!! How could I possibly blame him for anything???!!

Well, if it wasn't me and it wasn't any of these four little rascals, I can only conclude that it must have been the lodger that decided to wee on the lounge floor. Ho hum. Maybe I'll just have to switch to lino and forget about it.

Lesson 1: Most Bunnies Don't Like Cuddles

"Your feeble mind tricks won't work on me!!!"

We had some friends of friends over at the weekend. It was their first introduction to my bunnies and as such a chance to spread the word of the Way of Proper Bunny Care. For people who have only experienced hutched rabbits (just the thought of that makes me feel sad) these situations usually result in genuine surprise when they observe a remarkably different behaviour. "They're more like cats than rabbits!" they exclaim as the bunnies come up to investigate and tiny front paws are planted on human legs as the possibilty of treats is investigated.

On this occasion however, a scorching hot June afternoon, all the visitors could really learn was that sometimes bunnies just like to flop out in the shade and be left alone to nap.

One of this weeks visitors exclaimed "They're so cute! Can I pick them up??". I paused for a second and considered the deep scars on my arms from the last time Santa tried to explain to me that he really didn't NEED to be lifted off the ground to have medicine, be brushed or have his claws clipped. Was this a "learn by doing" situation I asked myself?

"Err...They don't really like that.." I replied almost apologetically. Santa and Jemima eyed us all suspiciously and went back to their nap.