We have been in two-minds about this for long time. The bloke who wrote about us originally was rather kind, quaint, an English gentleman one might say. So, we let him get away with his liberties.
He depicted us as little creatures who were being spun by man’s manic machine of power and control. He even made us seem like a psuedo-socialist-society in embryo. All very well and good as it appeared to fit the time. Anyway, his novel was read to children because it was about sweet furry little creatures who bounced along the fields before getting eaten by a fox, cat, or kestrel.
If that wasn’t enough, there were the bloody cars that flattened our attempts to cross the roads.
Just ask yourself whether this would have been deemed to be suitable reading for children if it had involved a group of two-legs? The answer, ladies and gentlemen of the two-legged variety, is not on your Nelly.
Whilst I am here, let me just point out that rabbits were once royal creatures. We had warrens built like castles and twenty-four hour protection. The Norman French bleeding loved us and would slit the throats of any Anglo-Saxon who tried to make off with any of our kind.
We were not even in England until our blessed William arrived.