Rabbits

Rabbits are small herbivorous mammals in the family Leporidae, occasionally domesticated but usually wild. The rabbit often appears in folklore as the trickster archetype, and is also a symbol of fertility and spring. Rabbits are popular characters in children's fiction.
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Most Read This Week Tagged "Rabbits"

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Rabbits Books

The Tale of Peter Rabbit (World of Beatrix Potter, #1)

Creepy Carrots! (Jasper Rabbit's Creepy Tales!)

Bunnicula: A Rabbit-Tale of Mystery (Bunnicula, #1)

More rabbits books...

Lists

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis

Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C. O'Brien

Best Talking-Animal Books

716 books — 725 voters

Reaktion Animal Books

104 books — 13 voters

That's Not My Momma's Milk! VEGAN BOARD BOOK by Julia Barcalow

The Reality of Animal Agriculture in Children's Books

56 books — 5 voters

By The Bubbling Brook by Eliza Thorncroft

Bunnies in the Berry Row by Eliza Thorncroft

Beneath the Clover Hill by Eliza Thorncroft

Welcome, Little Ones by Eliza Thorncroft

Squirrel's First Day by Eliza Thorncroft

Best Children's Books About Forest Animals

66 books — 30 voters

The Incredible Journey by Sheila Burnford

All about Animals

403 books — 101 voters

The Tale of Despereaux by Kate DiCamillo

Middle Grade Books Featuring Mice, Rabbits & Other Rodents

124 books — 15 voters

Related Genres

Animals

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Quotes Tagged “Rabbits”

“ It was as easy as breathing to go and have tea near the place where Jane Austen had so wittily scribbled and so painfully died. One of the things that causes some critics to marvel at Miss Austen is the laconic way in which, as a daughter of the epoch that saw the Napoleonic Wars, she contrives like a Greek dramatist to keep it off the stage while she concentrates on the human factor. I think this comes close to affectation on the part of some of her admirers. Captain Frederick Wentworth in Pers It was as easy as breathing to go and have tea near the place where Jane Austen had so wittily scribbled and so painfully died. One of the things that causes some critics to marvel at Miss Austen is the laconic way in which, as a daughter of the epoch that saw the Napoleonic Wars, she contrives like a Greek dramatist to keep it off the stage while she concentrates on the human factor. I think this comes close to affectation on the part of some of her admirers. Captain Frederick Wentworth in Persuasion, for example, is partly of interest to the female sex because of the 'prize' loot he has extracted from his encounters with Bonaparte's navy. Still, as one born after Hiroshima I can testify that a small Hampshire township, however large the number of names of the fallen on its village-green war memorial, is more than a world away from any unpleasantness on the European mainland or the high or narrow seas that lie between. (I used to love the detail that Hampshire's 'New Forest' is so called because it was only planted for the hunt in the late eleventh century.) I remember watching with my father and brother through the fence of Stanstead House, the Sussex mansion of the Earl of Bessborough, one evening in the early 1960s, and seeing an immense golden meadow carpeted entirely by grazing rabbits. I'll never keep that quiet, or be that still, again. This was around the time of countrywide protest against the introduction of a horrible laboratory-confected disease, named 'myxomatosis,' into the warrens of old England to keep down the number of nibbling rodents. Richard Adams's lapine masterpiece Watership Down is the remarkable work that it is, not merely because it evokes the world of hedgerows and chalk-downs and streams and spinneys better than anything since The Wind in the Willows, but because it is only really possible to imagine gassing and massacre and organized cruelty on this ancient and green and gently rounded landscape if it is organized and carried out against herbivores. ...more ”
― Christopher Hitchens, Hitch 22: A Memoir

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“ Come, my child," I said, trying to lead her away. "Wish good-bye to the poor hare, and come and look for blackberries." "Good-bye, poor hare!" Sylvie obediently repeated, looking over her shoulder at it as we turned away. And then, all in a moment, her self-command gave way. Pulling her hand out of mine, she ran back to where the dead hare was lying, and flung herself down at its side in such an agony of grief as I could hardly have believed possible in so young a child. "Oh, my darling, my da ...more ”
― Lewis Carroll, Sylvie and Bruno

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