Tru Wuv - AKA Rabbit Psychology 101

The Impressive Clergyman: And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva . . . So tweasure your wuv . . .

I'd be willing to bet money that if I asked you if you thought rabbits were capable of strong emotion you'd say not in a million years. A year ago I would have agreed with you. Two years ago I would not have expected any more emotion from a rabbit than I'd expect from a post. But now I know differently.

I'm about to tell you two rabbit stories that will sound very much like I poached them from one of those touching emails people pass around but they happened to me and my very own rabbits.

These are my first two rabbits, Merrie and Pippin. (Merrie has the darker face.) They are siblings and in the picture are young enough to be kept together. Later, when they had to be separated I put them in side-by-side cages. They were never particularly affectionate, to each other, I mean. I never caught them sniffing noses or even sitting next to each other separated only by wire. About the only thing you could possibly ascribe to an outward show of affection was that they pooped in the corners of their cages nearest each other. In my world that would really indicate the opposite sentiment, but they are rabbits, after all.

Anyway, time passed and I got more rabbits and eventually I changed everyone over to stacks of three cages one on top of another and side by side. Nine in all. In the process of relocating everyone Merrie ended up on one level and Pippin on another. I didn't think anything of it and for awhile nothing seemed to change.

Then, slowly, I noticed Pippin wasn't interested in food and he grew more listless. He didn't hop around at all just laid in his cage wheezing. I know he has a small tumor under his jaw and I thought maybe he was riddled with cancer and I just didn't know it. I didn't expect him to be with us long. He was barely pooping at all (in rabbits that's like being on your death bed.) I started the usual treatment (IV fluids and Critical Care.) Twice I brought him back from the brink of death and he started to eat a little but then he'd head downhill again.

I felt sorry for him - dying of cancer as I supposed - so I let him have extra time in the hoppy pen. That was when I noticed something strange. In the hoppy pen he acted perfectly normal, hopping around, still not eating or pooping, but certainly not laying on the floor wheezing like he did in his cage. Then one morning when I came down the stairs there was Pippin sitting up on his hind legs looking into one of the cages as if he was having a chat over the garden fence. Amused, I said, "So, Pippy, who are you visiting with?" As it hit me (like a two-by-four over the head) that it was MERRIE he was "chatting" with it also dawned on me to wonder if he might be MISSING Merrie. I figured it couldn't hurt anything if I moved him next door to Merrie so I did.

Originally his hay rack was hanging on the cage on Merrie's side and one of the first things he did was rip it off the wall (several times) until I finally put it on the other side. From the second I put him in that cage he started acting like a normal rabbit again. No more wheezing, no more listlessness. He started eating and pooping and drinking. Today he's probably the healthiest rabbit I have.

If I hadn't gone through this experience I may never have realized what was wrong with Fergal. I had put him downstairs with the other rabbits in the fall and at first I thought he was happy. He never seemed particularly unhappy. But slowly he started to exhibit the same behavior Pippin had when he was pining. Fortunately I suspected the trouble and realized he was pining too, but Fergal was pining for ME. He missed living upstairs. So I trundled him upstairs, gave him plenty of attention, and slowly he got his health back and now he's happy as a lark.

"I never realized rabbits were smart," I said to Dr. Bruce, my bunny vet, one day.

"Oh, they are," he said, "very smart. But they're subtle. They're not like a dog or cat. They won't tell you what's wrong. You have to be very observant."

Truer words were never spoke.

I'm considering a career change. I'll find a little couch and become a rabbit psychologist. I'll keep a bowl of baby carrots on my coffee table and take my notes on lettuce leaves while I ask, "And how does that make you feel?"

Not Oprah, perhaps, but maybe better.

Recharging

Twisk comes up to hop around almost every night. Sometimes I bring him up and sometimes Rob sneaks him up and I find out he's upstairs when I hear, "Thump, thump, thumpity, thump!" (It's hard to mistake the sound a bunny makes when it hops - or occasionally tears - around.)

Once, while I was on the stationary bike downstairs Rob snuck him upstairs and put a stuffed toy in his cage. I came around the corner to go upstairs and saw a stuffed cat in Twisk's cage and it took me a few seconds after, "Wha . . .???" to figure out what was going on.

He was great about using the litterbox until the cat peed in it. I washed it out (with vinegar) and filled it with fresh litter but except for hopping in every once in awhile he hasn't shown any interest in using it the way it was intended. Stupid cat.

I got an even closer up shot of this picture and sometime I'm going to paint it. Right now I'm on Day 6 of my Detoxivacation and so far all I've wanted to do is cook, bake, and peruse raw and vegan cookbooks. My family is over the moon happy about all the baking. So far I've made 7 loaves of bread, 2 batches of muffins, a pan of blondies (they have sweet potato in them . . .shhhhhh), a potato dumpling soup, sushi in a bowl (I forget the technical name but man oh man it smelled so good that the next day I kept thinking, "That meal was so good. I can't wait to make it again" before I remembered that I didn't actually EAT it.), baked tofu, some stuffed bread "pockets", I think I'm forgetting something. Anyway, I've run out of flour. Again. My family probably wishes I'd stop eating more often. LOL!

I'm shooting for 10 days as a minimum and 20 as a maximum. It will depend on how quickly I detox. One thing I've discovered. If your life is rushing past you and you want to slow it down just stop eating. Time will literally drag. Man will it drag.

Bunny Elf

Someday cookies will be named after this guy. I mean, how could they not???

Too Pooped to Hop

Today is a snow day. We're expecting 12-18 inches. Twisk is upstairs hopping around (and escaping the barrier I've set up to keep him contained in the dining room/kitchen area so Max won't be tempted to eat him) and crashing every now and then for a quick snooze. Needless to say, Twisk loves snow daze. (Because he's such a white fluffy marshmallow Rob says if we threw him out in the snowbank we'd never find him. LOL!!)

The Bunny Days of Christmas

Merry Christmas from Reindeer Station Farm. May we present The Bunny Days of Christmas. Click Here.

Up on the Rooftops

Remember when I said that Twisk could fly and was going to pull Santa's sleigh this year? Well, I just know there were those of you who doubted me. Therefore I offer the following deposition:

Josh (17-year-old-son): Your white bunny was out last night.

Me: Yeah, right. Very funny.

Josh: It was. I'm serious.

Me: You are such a kidder.

Josh: I AM NOT KIDDING. It was out running around on the floor and I had to catch it.

Me: Really? Really?! I KNEW he was really going to go out and pull Santa's sleigh last night. I KNEW it and no one believed me.

Josh (rolling his eyes): Yeah, Mom.

So, there you have it. Twisk spent the night helping Santa deliver presents to your house and I have empirical evidence.

You're welcome.

All Together Now

It's almost moving day for the babies. Two of the girls, Wilfin Beck and MissDubh will be going home with their new mommy on Sunday and Tweed and Treacle's new mommy plans to pick them up sometime next week. I am SO HAPPY to have found good homes for my babies. And so glad I invested so much time in handling them. They are good bunny citizens and should transition well to their new homes.

Now will somebunny please pass the tissues?

The Pumpkin Thief

It's This Cold

We Now Return You to Your Regularly Scheduled Farming

The girls wanted to show off their new coats. I think Lili's is the prettiest. Blue is her color. I was sincerely hoping not to have to change their coats again after I bought them new ones in the spring, but they were already looking like chubby matrons determined to fit into their skinny jeans so I broke down and called Jim Shaw who is my go-to guy for fiber covers. It's nice when you need to order something but you're not quite sure what you need and there's a real live person who answers the phone and doesn't mind running through your options for you. Plus, the first time I ever talked to Jim he was on his way out the door to take his wife out to eat. He automatically got an A+ for that.

The older I get the more I appreciate the personal approach . . . from who grew my food to who made the hat I'm wearing (not always me) and where it came from. There's only so much "mega," "super," and "one-stop" I can stand. Just going into a warehouse-type store like Costco or Home Depot gives me hives. Not that I don't appreciate them for what they're worth. If I need Christmas lights, fine. But they're like sugar. A little bit goes a long way. I called about a credit card offer not long ago and one of the perks was - get this - that when you called a REAL PERSON ANSWERS THE PHONE. Hello?! THAT'S WHAT OUGHT TO HAPPEN!

That's why I like what I do. I am hands-on from the mucking of the barn (that was yesterday's chore) to shirting the fleece (that's when you take the poo out of it) to the carding and spinning and knitting, and now weaving. And I like it that way. After all, what fun is something that's exactly like 1,000 other somethings? It's not hard to be unique. God made us all that way. So celebrate it!

Open Letter to the Easter Bunny

Dear Mr. Easter Bunny,

I am sure you are very busy even though there are a few months until Easter so I will be brief. I would like a job as a Bunny-in-Training. I recently worked on Alice in Wonderland with Johnny Depp, maybe you've heard of him? Hosts a great tea if you can keep Alice out of the teapot and you don't invite the March Hare.

Anyway, I was thinking about my career options (as you know they are rather limited for a white rabbit) and candy has always rather appealed to me, little children not so much, but every job has less desirable aspects. Anyway, I could really use the work. I need to strike out on my own, get my own digs, free myself from the chains of providing fiber for this obsessed woman who calls herself "Mom." I have some temporary work coming up pulling Santa's sleigh, but it won't last forever. So, if the job is available, I'm your rabbit. Please let me know as soon as possible.

Thanks,

Twisk

c/o Reindeer Station Farm

This Just In

Twisk has decided to audition for the role of Easter Bunny this year.

My New Best Friend

See that shop vac? It's my new best friend. I met a bunny lady at Rhinebeck (The Duchess County New York Sheep and Wool Festival - honestly it's like THE place to go if you 're a fiber person. It would take weeks to see it all properly. But I digress.) Anyway, she told me about rabbit blowing. I kid you not. You blow rabbit coats to get rid of dust and untangle the fibers, like they do with show dogs. I was warned not to do it inside and am I glad I took that advice. See exhibit A above . . . where I wrote "bunny dust" in the bunny dust. But remember, I was outside so most of it blew away. I seriously thought I'd done something wrong at first and that the shop vac was blowing dust from inside itself onto the rabbits. But, no. It was rabbit dust coming out from the air of the shop vac. I was amazed. So now all my rabbits are dust-free except for Mama Poppet and the babies.

I'm not done blabbing about my babies yet, but since they are all growing up and will be leaving - WAH! - in about four weeks I can promise that soon I will not have such a one-track mind. It's been all about rabbits here lately though. Over the course of a couple weeks I moved all 12 rabbits into the basement. I'm still waiting on one last 3-hole cage that Lucas is making for me and then I will have a total of 9 holes (cages) in 3 stacks. And that will be all I can handle. So right now that leaves me with 2 empty holes. Oh deary me - shall I have to find two more rabbits to fill them? What a shame! LOL!!

Anyway, now that they're all inside I am so relieved. I can do rabbit chores (which are by nature a bit fiddly) in the relative warmth of the basement. And I can do whatever I need to grooming-wise without having to worry that someone is going to die of exposure because of the fickle weather. I've got a couple coats right now that are holding on by a thread and within a weeks will be completely off. Which is good because I am at this very moment spinning up all my angora. I'm spinning it thread weight and will ply to lace weight. IT IS GORGEOUS! Even I'm impressed with it, if I can say that without coming off like I'm bragging. It's beautiful.

AND I started weaving this week so I now know enough to start weaving up some angora scarves. I'm getting the first one, but if there's any interest and the customers at Six Loose Ladies don't keep my stock depleted a few will probably find their way onto Etsy, which I have been sadly neglecting lately as real life has caught up with me.

And now I'm going to go warp my own loom. Why? Because I finally know how!!

It's Official

As you can see, they all fit pretty snugly in that basket I use to bring them up and down stairs to play with them. I picked that basket because it has a lid. Unfortunately the lid doesn't lock and they are now big enough to get out of it. I found this out when I put the basket on the dryer and started filling food bowls and tidying up the cage before I put them back in with Poppet. The next thing I know there's a little white body hurtling down between the cage and the dryer. It wasn't much of a drop and there was some clothes or something wedged in there, but still, it scared the snot out of me. Twisk wasn't the slightest bit scared. Not even a little surprised. Just seemed to realize that all that take-off practice had finally paid off. So from now on, the basket stays on the floor. Anyway, I had considered keeping Twisk (the white rabbit) and now it's official. He can fly so he must stay at Reindeer Station Farm, home of the flying rabbits.

I brought these guys up last night and let them play in a big box Rob brought home from work. First I gave them all massages. I would love to know if I'm the only person who does this. I've never heard of anyone else doing it. I discovered how much bunnies love massages when I was trying to find a way to make friends with Merry who, if you remember, is evil. She still attacks me sometimes when I first go in her cage, but once I start massaging her head and body she seems to decide that I can live. For today.

They all love it. If they're not used to it they can be a little jumpy until they trust you, but you know they are really relaxing when a) they let you put their head in your hand to massage it or b) they get so loosey-goosey they relax enough to rest their head on the bottom of the cage and you can hear their teeth touching the cage wire (it's a bit like hearing fingernails on a blackboard, but it means they are really relaxed.) Sometimes they tooth-purr - it's like cat purring only they do it by grinding their teeth.

Anyway, after their massages you can see they were very relaxed and they got into some of the funniest positions. In one of those pictures above Wilfin Beck (the blue one) is completely on his back. There were some other really great ones but they happened so fast I couldn't catch them on film. The picture of Treacle (the greyish tan one) with his legs out behind him is one of my favorite bunny poses. It's only beat by when they are completely on their side. You know a bunny is happy and content if it feels safe enough to lay on it's side. The bunny book calls that a bunny smile.

I call them all "him" because I can't tell yet what they are and it just makes life simpler. I can't believe they'll be four weeks old on Thursday. Then I can only play with them for another four weeks before they go to live in their new homes. Rob says I'm going to cry when they leave. He's probably right. At least I know they all have good homes to go to. That makes it WAY easier.

Super Powers

I took the nestbox out yesterday because the babies weren't using it much. Now they have more room to hop around which is good because Poppet seems to be driven a bit to distraction by all of them. They are eating hay and oats and I caught one drinking from the water bottle I put at baby level. (I caught Poppet drinking out of that bottle too even though she has her own!!) I think they might be nibbling at her food too.

They are like little kids who discover they have a superpower...they will be hopping along and all of a sudden they shoot halfway across the cage and they're like, "Whoa! That was AWESOME! Ma! Ma, did you SEE that?? Did you all see that???" Too funny.

Having these babies is one of the most entertaining things I've ever done. Unfortunately now I'm sick so I'm afraid to hold them. Can rabbits catch colds?? So I watch them like bunny T.V. There are no commercials and you get a lot of entertainment bang for your buck.

Rock-a-Bye Bunny

Baby Face

A Few Baby Photos

Babies!

So last Thursday I was feeding the bunnies at 6 in the morning and what did I find but Poppet pulling out her fur to make a fluffier nest for her BABIES!!! I had given up on her having babies. Last month's breeding was a false alarm and she didn't seem pregnant this time either even though I knew what I was doing this time when I bred her to Lucky.

There were six living babies and one very large dead one. I've heard the large ones often suffocate during birth. When we were raising rabbits when I was growing up we always lost the runt so I was worried about ours. And we did lose him, but I'm not sure we would have if Poppet hadn't gotten sick. The temperature plummeted one night and stupid me, I brought the babies inside, but not Poppet. I figured she had plenty of fur, but I didn't take into account that she'd plucked herself practically naked underneath. Anyway, when I brought the babies back to her Sunday morning she was not acting right and she had all the signs of GI stasis. So we ended up at the vet's for IV fluids and medicine. And the next day I got to put my old nursing degree to work giving her IV fluids myself to save a trip back to the vet. I even administered a shot in the line. Goes to prove what I always say, no education is a total waste. I think I've already given more shots, meds, and treatments as a farmer than I ever did as a nurse!! LOL!!

While Poppet was recovering I had to "help" her nurse by holding her and letting the babies latch on. Needless to say she did not like it, but she wasn't feeling well enough to protest either until early Monday morning around 1. She decided she'd had enough "help" and was ready to feed them on her own terms. Which was a relief because they were looking none too fat to me, but by last night, as you can see from the picture, their little tummies had filled right up. She's a really good mom and doesn't mind at all when I take them out for a bit to "bunny sit."

The only colors I know I have are one blue, one black and maybe one white. The two tan ones could be fawn or tort or chestnut...I'm not sure. The white could be pearl or opal. We'll have to wait and see when they get more hair. Now that the worst of the danger is past I'm looking forward to enjoying them instead of worrying about them. :^)

Life and Death

Let me tell you, starting your morning with a mercy killing is a real joy killer.

I love most everything about farming and the aspects I don't care for (ie., carrying water in the winter, moving the sheep fencing AGAIN, agonizing over vetting decisions) aren't really all that bad in the scheme of things. But the one thing I hate about farming, though I think it's helped me grow up a little, is dealing with death. Because if there's one thing farm animals aren't it's hardy.

Take our chickens for example. A couple nights ago it was a raccoon trying to carry one off. Yesterday it was a Cooper hawk that almost got one of the babies and then was trying for a hen. The other day one died out of the blue. No reason. Just dropped dead. (I was worried about that until I talked to other chicken people and they confirmed. Yep, sometimes for no reason whatsoever they just drop dead. Of course, she was my favorite.)

This morning it was a chipmunk. Not strictly speaking, a farm animal, per se, but it was lying in the doorway of a stall this morning when my daughter and I were doing our twice weekly horse chores feeding 20 plus horses. I think he was a victim of Oscar, the barn cat, who, catlike, didn't bother to finish him off. Thanks to the good people on the angora list I had several options to humanely euthanize it having had the gumption to ask about that in relation to my rabbits should the need ever arise. I wondered at the time if I would be brave enough to actually do it, but when you are faced with letting an animal die a slow agonizing death or ending its suffering you put on your big girl panties and do what needs to be done. And to do that you forget, for a moment, all the cute human characteristics that you give animals making them like little, adorable people who even when they are grumpy are incredibly lovable.

Which is why I say I think having to deal with the starkness of sickness and death have made me grow up a little and accept some of the more gruesome facts of life. Like animals die sometimes and if you get worked up about each and every little one you're wasting a lot of energy. Mother Nature can be cruel and sometimes life just sucks that way. That's when I try to remember that even Beatrix Potter was realistic about such things and she was just as prone to anthropomorphize animals as I am. After purchasing one of her first farms, Hilltop, she came out one day to observe the first litter of piglets that had been born on her farm. She asked the farmer if he'd named them yet. He replied, "We don't generally name them. Makes it hard come butchering time." You can bet that didn't stop her from eating them.

Still, losing that naivete kinda takes the bloom off life somehow. Makes you feel so gall-darned grown-up.