On a recent late afternoon, a wild rabbit reposed on a brick path leading to my front deck steps. The young doe weighed about four and one half pounds. She sat up and noticed me above her on my deck, more by scent than sight, and her translucent, tall ears moved one at a time, listening for any movement by me, the rest of her body immobile in an alert pose. The doe was not sure what I would do. She remained in her position for several minutes, and then bounced with grace down the driveway and across the road.
The doe, curious as to why I stood stationary, elevated herself on her hindquarters with front paws bent down to smell any change from me. Then she sprinted a short distance up my neighbor's steep driveway, her legs and hindquarters wide for powerful thrusts, her shoulders and front legs narrow to guide her body in a dash away from predators.
A rabbit in a city, molded for centuries by breeders, retains the characteristics of its wild cousin. I studied the social life of wild rabbits so I would understand the needs of city rabbits. For 19 years I owned and bred Flemish Giants, French Lops, English Lops, and Mini Lops. I gave my four breeds of rabbits the best environment, and they thrived. My city rabbits had fur of many colors, broken patterns, solid and spotted colors. They taught me about their unique personality traits and many of them showed me their exceptional intelligence, social habits, and courage, which stretched my knowledge well beyond the term "the dumb bunny."
My downtown Lexington house barely had a yard, so my rabbits were housed inside in handcrafted, sturdy wooden cages. One of my rooms was packed with cages and rabbits, cooled in the summer with a room air conditioner. On cooler days, several fans gave the rabbits a needed breeze for maximum air exchange. Bigger rabbits were housed in wire cages with solid floors; for the smaller minis, I employed all wire cages with pullout metal trays. Every cage floor was covered with pine shavings. Each individual had its own water bottle, rationed rabbit pellets, and fresh fruit or vegetables. I never fed lettuce, broccoli, cabbage, or any vegetable of these varieties because rabbits could become sick with stomach bloating.
Many of my rabbits were characters similar to those found in children's stories. Mars, a 17-pound fawn Flemish buck, brimmed with a dynamic personality remembered by many of his human friends. For a few hours every day he hopped, jumped in the air, and chinned the two rooms he roamed. Sometimes he forgot his territory and jumped the child's gate separating him and the dogs. One day I found Mars in the kitchen. Our Norwegian Elkhounds got along well with Mars; they ignored him. The Erz Mountains Dachsbracke Stew, a rare hound from Europe, backed up, turned, and disappeared from the room. Stew's ancestors never hunted rabbits this large.
My longtime friend, Ralph, hunted rabbits, but said Mars was an anomaly compared to the animals he saw in the wild. "If I saw a rabbit that big in the woods, I'd run the other way," he said.
When I smelled urine on Mars, I placed him into the claw-footed bathtub and washed him with shampoo made for puppies or kittens. Mars pretended he tolerated the shampoo swirled into his fur. Then I wrapped him in a towel and carried him to the dog grooming table, grasped the blow dryer, flicked on a cool setting, then used a dog slicker brush to comb the mats. This project always took over an hour to dry the soaked fur. If the fur was not dried thoroughly, Mars would have a bad hare day, with hair that resembled a twisted map. When I turned Mars over to dry and brush his stomach fur, he allowed me 10 minutes. Then he let me know it was time to stop and pressed his front teeth on my thumb until I said, "OK, enough this time."
The evening meal with Mars changed him from a docile bunny to an aggressive one. The first time my husband, Mike, fed Mars while he was loose in the room, the Flemish bit him on the leg and drew blood. After the rabbit pellets were tossed in the dog-size dish, Mars switched back to his tranquil self. We attempted to deposit him in his cage first before feeding, but Mars eluded us. The solution was to detain him with a broom until the food peppered the dish. His behavior of aggression was only at night. For years an "Attack Rabbit" sign hung on the door to the rabbit room.
Juno, a fawn Flemish doe, purchased with Mars from their breeders in Pennsylvania, weighed 19 pounds and measured over 35 inches in body length. She was a gentle giant if handled with calm hands, however, Juno did not like rushing to her cage. One Friday, when I needed to hurry for an appointment, she reared up most of her body in my arms and slammed into my face. She shattered my glasses and bestowed a left black eye.
I bred Mars and Juno and they produced several grand champions and two all-breed Best in Show winners. Pumpkin, round as her name, weighed 20 pounds and filled the show table. Many judges did not know what to award her. Pumpkin finished her show career with a Best in Show at the July Scott County rabbit show. A fawn doe named Goldilocks, granddaughter of Mars and Juno, weighed 19 pounds and won another Best in Show the following year at the same Scott County show.
I sold many rabbits with excellent conformation to children and teenagers. The American Rabbit Breeders Association members are strong in support of youth, with separate shows and awards at the same shows as adults.
Mike and I bred an agouti mini lop, Nicolas, and sold him to a teenaged Laura Sensel from Lexington. Nicolas and Laura won a Best in Show in the youth division the same year Pumpkin won. We drove her home after the wins, all three of us ecstatic about a rare double Best in Show by the same breeders.
Murphy, a gray and white mini lop, was sold to a Lexington police officer and his family. Murphy won at many shows, but he is best known for riding many times in a police cruiser. A few years later, the family changed their interests from rabbits and gave Murphy to my friend Joy Smith in Louisville. Eventually Joy telephoned, offering Murphy to us. We loved Murphy for over a decade; he lived two months short of his eleventh birthday.
I owned and bred many rabbits which lived beyond their normal age. Pumpkin lived to 6 1/2 years old. Rosebud, a sandy doe exchanged for a rose bush with my friend Norma in Ohio, lived to the rare age for a Flemish, 8 1/2 years old.
My veterinarian said, "You must put something in the water, for so many of your rabbits to live so long."
French Lops consistently possess unusual personalities. One friend, Debbie, owned a broken-colored French Lop named Thumper, with an odd taste for food. Every time the doorbell rang with a pizza delivery, Thumper jumped all boundaries, including the back of the couch, to beat Debbie to the front door. He preferred pepperoni pizza and after eating a piece, he took a nap. But pizza is not recommended for most rabbits.
While some rabbits may be confused about food, Flash, our basset hound, forgot he was first a hunting dog. Many times he snuck into the rabbit room, leaned on the cage door of the English lop Charlene, climbed in, and lay with the doe side by side. The thought never occurred to Flash he was bred to chase after rabbits.
I prefer show rabbits, but single rabbits make excellent companions. They are lower maintenance than a dog, and considered more affectionate than a cat. They do not create a lot of noise, except when alerting for an intruder, don't need to be walked, and are less expensive to own. Rabbits-like us-need a change of routine and time to play outside their cages, like my wild doe.
Every evening the wild doe appears on the hill across the road. She lives and socializes with a colony of other rabbits which remain hidden from me. She plays by herself, darting right, then left, jumping with a twist in the air, chins a log to leave her scent, and nibbles various green plants, her ears always listening for predators.
My rabbits continue the wild doe's alertness for intruders. Many nights I awaken to the sound of thumping back feet, and know an intruder, human, or animal has stepped into our yard. Each of my rabbits are curious, mischievous, cuddle when they trust me, have off days like people, and can be stubborn.
Since the loss of my last rabbit, Rosebud, a couple years ago, my life missed the companionship of a rabbit. For my new project, I plan to design and build a rabbit hutch like a Bluegrass historical house, including a chimney, shutters for the windows, and shingles for the roof. The breezeway and run will be protected by heavy gauge wire to keep out predators, because the new Flemish will live outside in its "extreme makeover" mansion in style.