Raising Rabbits

When I was in 6th grade, we began raising rabbits. I'm not sure how it started, but it evolved into a major production. This was common in my family to develop any interest to a very high level. Other families might decide to have rabbits and get 1 or 2. Ours started out with a couple and progressed into a full-scale rabbitry complete with grand champion trophies, state project awards in 4-H and with each of us specializing in raising a different breed.
The idea was that we wouldn’t compete against each other at the county fair, so I raised New Zealand Whites, Cindy raised silver-furred Chinchillas, Karen had New Zealand Reds, Susan chose Californians and Shannon had the miniature Dutch. My brother was already occupied with his project of raising a litter of pigs from one he won in an essay contest, and so was exempted from rabbit raising. My essay had failed to win an Ayrshire cow, which was perhaps fortunate, as rabbits proved much easier to manage.
Living in the country gave us ample space for the heavy wooden hutches that housed the rabbits. They formed three rows west of the garage and the family laboriously constructed a stone wall across the front to set the rabbitry off from the driveway. At its peak, the rabbitry housed around 300 rabbits.
Stacked 50-pound bags of Purina Rabbit Chow and the other paraphernalia of raising small livestock filled the garage. This included extra watering and feeding crocks and blocks of salt. We also stored burlap shades to block the intense sun of summertime and plastic to cut the frigid prairie winds of wintertime. For shows, we combed the rabbit’s fur, rubbed in peroxide to whiten it and fluffed it with powder. The garage also stored the carrying cases for the shows and some quarantine pens for new
stock or for sick rabbits. There we kept the ear tatooer and ink, the nail clippers and the various medicines for cases of pneumonia, sore hocks and other rabbit problems.
Besides providing an endless supply of fried rabbit, roasted rabbit, and rabbit stew for our meals, the rabbitry became a source of income. We gradually upgraded our stock from the first undersized, narrow shouldered rabbits to having stocky, plush-furred champions. These sold well as breeding stock to other 4-Hers envious of the Martin family sweep of the trophies and ribbons at the 4-H fairs and rabbit shows.
We also sold our rabbit meat to the local Safeway Supermarket in town. Butchering rabbits requires one to disassociate from the cuddly bunny image that comes to the mind of the average American child. We did name the breeding stock and develop attachments to them, but the young remained
anonymous through their two months of fattening to market size.
It helped that there were always more litters of varying sizes plus many pregnant does soon to deliver another batch of pink, sightless babies. It was quite a thrill to lift the nest box lid the first time and see the wriggling, newborn rabbits. It was important not to disturb the babies too much as a very nervous mother might kill its young. After 10 days, the babies developed into cute fluff balls as their eyes opened and they began venturing out of the straw-filled nest box.
A bonus from raising rabbits was our lush and award winning garden. Rabbit manure was the secret with its high nitrogen content.
One learned responsibility from watering and feeding the rabbits twice a day. I’ll never forget the remorse I felt after neglecting my watering chores one blistering Kansas day. The sight of the panting, suffering rabbits with dry water bowls brought home to me the importance of following through on an assignment. Keeping the financial and breeding records for the 4-H project taught me about management while applying for the county and state awards and participating in shows taught me about competition.
At age 35, while living in a townhouse in Baltimore, I kept a rabbit as a house pet. My cats didn’t share my enjoyment of the large bunny that loved to taste everything including the wooden furniture, guest’s ankles and unwary cats. Now I’m rabbitless, but can’t resist a little nostalgia for the feel of soft fur and the wriggly, cuddlesome creatures.

Story ID:	1269
Written by:	Virginia Allain (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Organization:	none
Story type:	Family Memories
Location:	El Dorado Kansas Butler
Year:	1960
Person:	my 4-H rabbit project