Ode to an Angora Rabbit

The first time I lost an Angora Rabbit, I was devastated. Lost as in he died, not as in I couldn’t find him. That was early on into my relationship with these interesting creatures; now I know how fragile they really are. I feel sad when one of my little long eared furry friend dies, but it’s not a shock.

Why Angora rabbits? Why not? No, seriously, it’s because they are probably the easiest fiber animal to have if you don’t have a farm. They don’t take up much room, and are prolific fiber producers. My fiber closet is proof of that. Ball park estimate is 2-4 pounds of angora fiber a year per bunny. It may not sound like a lot, but I have had multiple rabbits, and am waaaay behind on processing it into yarn.

Charlotte was actually a native of the Indigo Rabbittree. I had lost 2 rabbits, and was down to 3. I had a boy bunny and 2 girl bunnies. CinderElla, a black French/German and Sigmund, a fawn colored (looked like apricot to me, but in bunny world it’s called Fawn)  became parents of a litter of babies, with one survivor, Nemo. Not bad for a first litter with an inexperienced mother and owner.

Because I wasn’t careful with the barriers of the maternity pen, Cinder produced another litter when Nemo was about 5 weeks old. She did much better, and there 7 little kits joined the Indigo Rabbittree. 

Charlotte was one of those kits, born here July 17, 2006. She wasn’t the friendliest of critters, but she was an amazing fiber producer. She was on the larger size for a female, her fur was espeically soft and she did not mat badly. She tended to be grumpy, and often growled when I reached into her cage to feed her and change the litter box. Sometimes she boxed, and I learned how strong a 7 pound rabbit is. She bit me often during grooming sessions. I tried to find her a home, but at the time, Nemo was sick with what turned out of be a virus, and I hesitated to give her away in case what he had was contagious. It wasn’t, so she stayed on at the “tree” until she died a few weeks ago. She was almost 6, not too shabby in bunny years

The funniest memory of her was a few weeks before she died. She was stretched out across the front of her cage, saying in bunny language I am sooooo comformable here I can relax.I reached in to get her food dish, and she sat up, then lunged at my arm and landed flat on my arm, growled bit me and ran away. I was so shocked I didn’t do anything at first. I guess she thought she got the evil creature, then sat and waited for her food. Reminded me of the rabbit in the Monty Python movie: “Run away-run away!” I had to sit down I was laughing so hard.

She’s buried in “Bunny Hill” in a friend’s yard with other bunnies my friend Vicky and I have loved and lost. She was a character.

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