Its origins are swathed in the mists of antiquity, a whispered legend told around wilderness campfires. It is a story recounted by the real old timers, those sourdoughs who have seen mysterious things in the Land of the Midnight Sun. With eyes averted, they stare into the dark woods, and they are transported to another time, place, as they talk in hushed tones of…the rabbits…the rabbits…
Well, not exactly. But it does make for a great opening paragraph.
The truth is a bit more straightforward, if at the same time considerably more elusive. There are, in fact, several stories of how the rabbits came to be a nearly ubiquitous visual of the town, and not only of Valdez proper. Their restless nature has propelled them to migrate as far as subdivisions fifteen miles up the Richardson Highway. At this point, they are almost as much a part of local, albeit living, history as the Great Rush of ’98.
One aspect of local lore has it that the rabbits made their debut appearance in the early 80s, on the other side of what is now the north small boat harbor. Other retellings predate that by a good long while, decades, even. So, any timeline is a roll of the dice.
And then there’s the issue of their initial presence. Some say the Valdez rabbits were originally raised for their once-sought-after fur. Others, that a single pair (one pair, mind you!) was brought to Valdez and later released, or escaped, or…fill in the blank. And, since rabbits have a superb understanding of mathematics (think multiplication tables), it didn’t take too awful long before, well, you know.
And, oh boy, if there’s one issue about which everyone in Valdez has an opinion, it’s the long-eared newcomers, or oldcomers. The quickest way to start an argument between friends is not by mentioning politics, but rather, commenting on the rabbit situation.
It’s easy to discern who’s for and who’s against simply by the term used in reference to the critters—enthusiasts call them “bunnies”, while the less supportive use “rabbits”.
There are pluses and minuses on both sides. As they are neither domesticated nor wild, they fall into the cracks between. As feral animals, they can be destructive to flower beds, gardens, and the like. Their propensity for digging creates holes that can trip people, and they can leave previously swept areas strewn with soil and gravel. They are constantly in eating mode, which means that they are constantly on the hop for anything remotely resembling food. Also, they are literally everywhere: on lawns, patios, driveways and, in the most brazen cases, almost underfoot as they closely follow a prospective food source (you) to car or front door.
On the plus side, their very “everywhereness” acts as a tourist magnet and leaves visitors with lasting, pleasant memories of their time in Valdez. After all, what visitor doesn’t get the warm fuzzies when he sees a fluffle (yes, that is a term) of friendly rabbits leisurely hopping around in front of his RV or tent first thing in the morning? For some, it is akin to a wonderland experience, sitting or walking among a throng of friendly, fuzzy creatures.
They can be hand-fed, sometimes, but that, and attempted petting, are discouraged, since they are not considered tame and can bite.
Like any other animal group, the rabbit population waxes and (kind of) wanes. The most drastic waning in recent memory took place about three winters ago, when a lynx couple meandered in from the surrounding woods, and took it upon themselves to call a moratorium on rabbit productivity.
Fully recovered several seasons later, and much to the delight of our visitors, the rabbit population has rebounded to its former prominence within the community. And though ever a mixed blessing among Valdezeans, the tourists love them. Cell phone cameras hum, visitors stoop down to feed them, and they take home a heart-scrapbook of beguiling memories of the Rabbit Capital of Alaska.
*link from 04-18-2025 Newsletter
