Flora's Story

Flora was originally named Fiorinella and came from the SPCA.  Who gave her this awkward moniker I can't think but I moved it to her middle name and used Flora which is close enough for a rabbit to remember.  When I got her she was the last one alive from her litter, the others had been destroyed as the confinement slowly drove them nuts.  I was told she had been born and raised in the SPCA cages and was 6 months old.  

She came to me looking like a belgian hare or a wild rabbit.  Thin as wires and solidly packed with muscle.  This was not the body of a caged rabbit!  When I let her loose in the house she was very good about litter training, taking to it nearly immediately although having her mistakes.  What really struck me was her extreme athleticism and her drive to seek out every nook and cranny my house held.  This caused some consternation as she was getting into clothing, climbing high up and crawling deep behind.  She was stronger than any rabbit I'd known and could jump much higher and was a fearless adventurer.  I Dearly loved her antics in spite of the frustration they gave me and her habit of sitting in a window looking out charmed me.  I put wire on the windows and allowed this habit.  She wasn't really very tame.  A skittish little rabbit prone to sudden starts, yet intelligent and not specifically afraid of me.  She didn't understand petting as if nobody had ever taught her to enjoy this little intraspecies grooming gift.  If I "groom" her with my nose she settles in and enjoys but now, 3 years later, we're still working on enjoying hand petting.  

After a time the indoor confinement and plentiful food resulted in her body acquiring a normal rabbity shape with which pet owners are familiar.  Not fat, I'm careful about that, but rounded and fleshed.  As we got to know each other our interactive dialog improved and I soon felt that we could communicate more than basic impulses.  It wasn't long before I was convinced that what I actually had was a feral rabbit caught young, in the fall, and kept about 8 weeks in a cage, not born caged as I'd been told.  I think they felt that the truth would reduce her chances at finding a home.  Certainly feral rabbits of the domestic dwarf variety cannot safely survive our harsh Saskatchewan winters so she did have to be captured and domesticated.

Still, Flora was never really happy with household confinement.  Although she had the run of my home, it was still "captivity" to her.  With the other rescue rabbit, Benny, still grieving for his last owner who'd loved him yet inexplicably abandoned her 2 year old buck at the shelter, things got a little cold around here.  Before long I was the wicked slaver who kept him from going home and her from being free.  They would stomp off when I approached, refuse to eat the food I brought till I had left and generally treated me like a hated exile.  I was heart broken of course because my last rabbit had been such a source of joy and because rabbits charm me even when they're at their utter worst.  I got another bunny.  I had the resources to handle a third and determined to get myself a baby that would grow up to like me.  Little Toby arrived and within 3 days he had started picking up the others' attitudes.  I got fed up.  I knew what was going on, I knew that feral little Flora was being so disgruntled she was convincing even the innocent kitten that I was evil.  I got upset and told her she could go if she hated my shelter and comfort so badly and I opened the back door for her.  She eagerly headed out into my sheltered and well fenced yard.

For the first couple of weeks I'd work to chase her back in at sunset and she'd fight it and complain about it.  I'd told her she could be free, so why chase her back into my giant cage?  Eventually she'd dug a goodly burrow under my garage and I believed she now had enough shelter as well as the safety of my well fenced yard and the abundant wild growth I foster there.  As well I was regularily refilling her pellets with rich fatty pellets and offerings of carrots and such plus fresh water.  I put these things in a sheltered spot where my picnic area has a roof.  She lacked for nothing and was healthy and sleek out there.  Flora seemed to flourish in my yard and I quite enjoyed having my yard bunny.  It was a lovely summer, going out and her learning to come to my call to recieve treats and even pets on the nose.  When I was outside or the dog, she'd come around and hang out with us flopping in the shade.  All seemed ideal.

Then the weather changed and I got a job contract anyway.  Suddenly I simply didn't have time ot hang out in the yard.  I tried to spend time out there but some days I only managed cursory checks to see that she was out there and doing alright.  One morning the neighbors called.  She was in their yard.  She'd found a gap under the fence, enlarged it a bit and gone next door where there were people to visit.  They misunderstood and tried to trap her in their yard by blocking her gap.  She went under another spot in their fence and back to my yard trying to dig her way back in.  The fence I'd built was designed to prevent this and she couldn't get back in so had to return to the neighbor's yard.  The world outside our fences was wide open, full of big noisy scary things, and definitely dangerous.  Flora wasn't stupid, but she was lonely and scared.  The neighbors blocked this new hole too and now she was quite blocked into their yard.  I got the message in a while and headed next door.  I'd been feeling horrible about Flora's loneliness, I knew she was going quite feral and couldn't be caught in my backyard on a regular basis.  I wasn't sure how I was going to attend to vet needs or cope with winter as she simply couldn't be caught.  The shrubbery and overgrowth I cultivate in my "wild" garden protected her completely from a big blundering human.  Now, trapped in my neighbor's typical suburban yard with mowed lawn and constrained flower beds, she was catchable.  When I did catch her, she squealed horrifically.  She sounded like terror incarnate.  My neighbor said she sounded like a squealing pig.  I carried her home.

The reaction she gave when I finally caught her settled my mind.  She was lonely, she'd gone completely wild, she'd lost her mind.  I could not let her out and get her back in and she was not mentally well, for all her physical fitness, being left outside.  Flora would not go back out.  

It took a couple weeks for her to let go of the outside, she would pine in windows and try to sneak out the door, but she did settle down.  She was clearly grateful for the company of the other two rabbits, the dog and myself.  These days she is enjoying her life as a house rabbit quite completely, happily munching the delightful foods I bring, accepting my worshipful petting and nose strokes, and contentedly dreaming by the heat of the space heater or laying in sunpuddles.  

I think we both learned some important lessons about rabbits.  Being all alone in the scary outdoors drives a bunny nuts.  As much as they love to get out and dance at twilight, they need their family and safe haven.  If I could I'd further fortify my yard to prevent even determined digging, and install a door flap they could use.  Better still if I can figure out how to build a run they can access themselves.  Either way I've yet to figure out how to do this with my current house.   If I ever build a house I'll probably come up with a courtyard for my  sweety-buns to hop around in.