The Birds, the Bees, and the Bunnies
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.
A few weeks ago, my husband, David, called me after dropping the gang off at school and told me that he had volunteered that we would take care of Kira’s kindergarten class bunny during the summer.
I know what regular readers of this column are thinking: We have five children — do we really need to take care of the bunny?
But David knew that in my heart I love animals, and that I have a particular soft spot for Ahava, the cocoa-colored, floppy-eared rabbit that Kira and her classmates had come to love. Kira was ecstatic, as was my younger daughter, Talia, who is 3.
So, on the last day of school, I loaded up Ahava and all her accoutrements into the car — the cage, the bedding, the pellets, the hay, the sweet treats … it turns out there was a lot of stuff besides Ahava.
The girls fussed over her, feeding her lettuce, carrots, and broccoli. They begged me to let her run around part of the apartment, which we did, with Kira running behind her cleaning up the many pellets that Ahava left behind.
But I began to feel bad for Ahava, who spent most of her day cooped up in her cage by herself. It took me a few days to admit it, but Ahava needed a friend. I wouldn’t really think much about ignoring Ahava if she had a bunny friend to play with — a girlfriend, that is. It was bad enough having a couple bunnies. I didn’t need a dozen.
The girls were overjoyed when they heard my plan. “Yay, we only want girl bunnies, anyway,” Kira cried, still smarting from the fact that our new baby, Nate, is a boy, tipping the scales in our family so that the boys outnumber the girls.
When we went to choose the new bunny, the girls somehow convinced me that we should get two female rabbits — one for Kira and one for Talia. I’m not so sure how they achieved this but I do remember that it was hot and I was running late, two factors that have been known to take the fight right out of me.
“Fine, fine, each of you can have a rabbit,” I said. “As long as they’re girls.”
We arrived home and the girls were excited to introduce Kira’s rabbit, Lily, and Talia’s rabbit, Sasha, to Ahava. We opened Ahava’s door and plopped the new bunnies in the cage.
Well, how can I relate the next part of the story in a family newspaper?
Ahava’s reaction to her new friends was memorable and rather energetic.
“Ahava, why are you on top of Lily?” Kira asked innocently.
I am sure that my jaw dropped in horror. Even the best-laid plans go awry.
“Ahava, stop playing like that,” Talia shrieked.
But Ahava, alone for the past year, did not stop playing for quite some time.
I’m hoping that at this point you have figured out that Ahava is a male rabbit, a fact I tried to explain to Kira and Talia as I set up a separate cage for the female bunnies. Even though Web sites devoted to bunnies noted that a rabbit’s ovulation is triggered by mating, nearly guaranteeing automatic impregnation, I was still hoping that by some miracle I would be spared this occurrence.
“Ahava is not a boy, Mommy,” Kira told me emphatically. “My teacher knows all about rabbits, and she told me that Ahava is a girl.”
Finally, I just picked up the darn animals and explained certain anatomical differences to Kira. She looked crushed.
But not for long. Because — you won’t believe this — the next evening, my boys noticed that there were two babies in Lily and Sasha’s cage. No: Rabbit gestation is not one day long. But it seems that Lily or Sasha — I’m still not sure which — arrived pregnant. I guess not everyone is as careful about bunny population control as I am. And now that my eyes have been opened to this fact, I am expecting another litter any day now.
Kira and Talia, as well as my sons Jacob and Josh, are thrilled with this turn of events. The boys have named the babies Pinky and Shimon, and have claimed them as their own.
“We think they’re boys,” Josh said.
“We’re assuming they’re boys until we know otherwise,” Jacob clarified.
And poor Ahava, after all this, is still alone. But at least he had his one moment of glory. And maybe if Jacob and Josh are right, and Pinky and Shimon are boys, he will eventually get some friends. Boyfriends, that is.
sarasberman@aol.com