Checking out the world of 4-H rabbits

First, I feel I should explain the photograph. It has been county fair season around here and on a recent blazing hot Saturday, I attended a 4-H rabbit show at a fair in a nearby town. I happen to enjoy rabbits, especially the many wild ones that call my land “home.” I know, I know, I wouldn’t feel quite so generous if I had a vegetable garden, but I don’t have one and luckily don’t need one, as I have neighbors who generously share the bounty from their gardens with this old man. I’m not really sure of the point of raising and showing rabbits, and I don’t like the fact that they live their little furry lives in cages, but hey, I was there to support a dear friend’s granddaughter who was showing her rabbits. (a purple ribbon and a couple of blues, I think) And know that I’ll only show up at your offspring’s rabbit show if you’re a dear friend. Acquaintances shouldn’t expect to see me.

Oh yeah, the photograph. The be-hatted old guy on the left is me, and I’m sharing a laugh with the rabbit superintendent, the person in charge, a woman named Deona, who worked with my mother almost half a century ago in a newspaper office. We had a beautiful chat. Not sure what it was that caused me to double over in laughter, but this isn’t about me. I’m offering up the photo because Deona’s unchecked, expansive, brilliant smile is something we all need to see and, honestly, it just makes me happy. Leonardo da Vinci’s “La Gioconda,” the painting we know as “Mona Lisa,” is a dour downer compared to the photo I call “Deona.”

Young 4-H members don’t seem to be able to sit down, so there was constant movement during the rabbit show. Perhaps somewhere in the 4-H manual are the words “never rest.” At one point, a very young boy with red hair, and missing a front tooth, stopped briefly next to me, turned to his friend who was following him, smiled, and said, “Yo wabbit twied to bite me.” I almost fell out of my chair. My gosh, I haven’t seen anything that cute since Winthrop Paroo sang about Gary, Indiana in the movie, “The Music Man.”

Back in the 1950s and 1960s, there were a number of barbers in my hometown, and there was one who had what I considered to be the weirdest décor imaginable. I only visited his shop a couple of times, but I’ll never forget what he had on his barbershop walls and shelves, dozens and dozens of ribbons and trophies … for showing rabbits! Maybe I’m missing something here. There is clearly a gap in my education. Perhaps I need to try to understand that raising and showing rabbits is simply another way for people to get together, share similar experiences, and talk about something they love, in this case, delightful, mostly docile rabbits. Promise me that if you ever encounter a rabbit superintendent at a county or state fair, offer up a huge smile. It might be someone I know.

Kurt Ullrich lives in rural Jackson County. The Dubuque Telegraph Herald has published a 60-page magazine of Kurt’s columns. The magazine can be purchased here.