Today the Easter Bunny Died

Today we will show the interconnections between Santa Claus, Mr. Fifteen, the Easter Bunny and the “Stork”. The bittersweet story goes like this…


As we pass through the Autumnal Equinox we know that Spring is on its way.  Even though Santa has barely left the building we know it is time to begin thinking about cleaning our golf clubs and shoes, changing those soft spikes that should have been changed last July, and making a resolution that this is the year that we actually improve our game.

This year it is a little different because when Santa left town he took with him the Easter Bunny. Silver Bullet died this morning. For a generation of children, Silver Bullet was the Easter Bunny. Let me explain.

When Mr. and Mrs. Commish’s daughter, who shall henceforth be known as Gwaltney (she has always been a little ham) was but a wee lass (eight years old by true and verifiable count) she joined the 4-H Rabbit Club. This simple beginning led to The Commish coming home from a Myrtle Beach golf trip and presto he became a goat herder; but, that is another story best told over a few cold ones at the nineteenth hole.

So for almost 20 years now Mrs. Commish and Gwaltney have raised and shown bunnies. A dozen years ago they decided to get a large breed rabbit known as Flemish Giants. These puppies top the scales at 18 plus pounds, some of them with lots of plus pounds. About this time they began taking some of the rabbits to visit the children at several of the local country clubs on Easter. The kids, of course, liked all of the rabbits, small ones like Netherland Dwarfs and bigger ones like English Angoras, but they liked the Flemish Giants, Big Mama and her offspring Remington Steele and Silver Bullet, the best. They were huge and Big Mama was the biggest.

It always surprised me when teenagers would come over and ask about Big Mama even though she retired from this activity four years before she passed away. They had begun taking pictures with Big Mama when they were only six or eight and looked for her every year. The bunnies would rotate and the children would have their pictures taken and pet the animals and the parents would always gasp at their size. It was a rewarding experience, and, best of all, the bunnies earned some money to buy their own food. This past Easter only Silver Bullet represented the Giants. His brother Remington Steele was losing weight and was showing signs of aging so he stayed home and was replaced by a perky Netherland Dwarf and a floppy-eared Holland Lop named Charlie.

After the Easter gig, Silver Bullet retired to his huge pen in the back of our barn. His pen is so large that we have a goat milking stand and stool inside his pen. This lets us interact with him whenever we milk the goats (they have to be milked twice a day). Last night when I locked the barn doors I checked on The Bullet. He had hopped up on the milk stand and was sitting quite contentedly, all 20 pounds of him. This morning he had followed Big Mama and Remington Steele to another hutch. Silver Bullet died last night.

He literally saw a generation of children grow up and to them Silver Bullet was the Easter Bunny. So, fifty years ago today The Stork brought my youngest brother, Mr. Fifteen, into this world and today Santa departed with my Easter Bunny. Happy Birthday, Mr, Fifteen and Farewell Herr Hare.