Time Outdoors: In search of Watership Down

It’s a common sight in Acton — a wild cottontail rabbit munching clover in a backyard or along a fence line. For most of the summer, we had a baby bunny living under our shed. “It was super-cute,” my young daughter said when I asked her about it.

A few years ago we were awakened by the unmistakable sounds of a rabbit meeting its end. Presumably a hungry coyote was taking advantage of their abundance among the houses. 

My daughter is right; rabbits are cute and generally beloved. Stories about them — “Peter Rabbit,” “The Velveteen Rabbit,” and “Goodnight Moon” — were bedtime favorites at our house. 

In a departure from cuddles and carrots, Richard Adams’ “Watership Down” tells a harrowing tale of rabbits fleeing human-caused ecological disaster and embarking on a perilous odyssey to a safer home.

That story has parallels, because the cottontails we see in Acton are actually non-native transplants. These more recently introduced eastern cottontails look similar but are a different species from the shy native New England cottontails they have replaced. Like most, I suspect, I knew nothing about this ecological inconvenient truth.

A new breed

Some human-caused impacts on wildlife are easily observed. In this case, the change has gone largely unnoticed because a very similar impostor has displaced the native species so effectively. 

Cautious and petite, with rounded ears lined with black fur, New England cottontails are our only native rabbit, and the ones left seldom venture far from the thick, dense vegetation they depend on. Once abundant here, the remaining few are now on their own journey toward safety and recovery — after a combination of factors conspired against them. 

Historically, wildfires burned our forests, and abandoned beaver ponds created clearings, allowing dense thickets and young vegetation to spring up. These naturally occurring messy, transitional landscapes provided ideal habitat for New England cottontails.

As wildfires were suppressed, as the beavers were trapped, and as farmland reverted back to woods, our forests matured and sunlight could no longer reach the ground. This dense understory so vital to the rabbits began to disappear as the cycles of “successional” regrowth were interrupted.

Bold and adaptable

In the early 1900s, as their decline became obvious, state agencies and hunting organizations imported thousands of non-native eastern cottontails from the central and southern United States. More comfortable feeding out in the open, these bolder, adaptable look-alikes quickly filled the void left by their more reclusive native counterparts. 

The clearing of brush for development and the roadways dividing the landscape have further tipped the scales. The abundance of white-tailed deer is also a factor, as they over-browse the habitat so important to the cottontails’ survival. 

Today, native New England cottontails exist only in isolated pockets of a range that has shrunk by 86%. Most of us, including me, have never seen one.

Thankfully, awareness is growing and conservation efforts are underway. Federal and state wildlife agencies, non-governmental organizations, landowners, and others have joined forces to help, forming the New England Cottontail Conservation Initiative. Habitat preservation is the key, as these reclusive bunnies need large, connected swaths of dense thickets. Captive breeding programs also exist to boost numbers. 

Near Martha’s Vineyard there is an uninhabited island that is now a 600-plus-acre wildlife refuge known as Nomans Land, so-called because of its past use as a naval bombing range. 

Starting in 2019, 26 New England cottontails were released on the island by the state. Due to the dense undergrowth and lack of predators, by 2022 the population had grown to an estimated 400 individuals. These island-dwelling bunnies, protected by the Atlantic on all sides, serve as a crucial foothold for the species. 

A reintroduction effort

Zoo New England is one of the organizations working to help New England cottontails recover. During recent field work on Nomans, researchers trapped rabbits for release into struggling mainland populations. Postdoctoral research fellow Julia Joos went along. 

“Our trip was to trap rabbits to bring back to the mainland and ultimately release [them] into some of the existing populations here,” she said. “These rabbits are now in quarantine at a facility in New Hampshire.” 

In Adams’ book, Watership Down is a hilltop sanctuary where the rabbits plan to build their new home. With our help, perhaps New England cottontails can find their own places of safety and recover. Their journey will not be easy, but progress is being made thanks to Zoo New England and other groups working to protect the habitat they depend on. 

So, until next month, enjoy the sight of eastern cottontails nibbling clover when you spend Time Outdoors. Maybe you will have a baby bunny under your own shed. But also think of the rabbits you don’t see — the shy native New England cottontails out there in the thorny brambles, quietly trying to make their way back from the brink.

Views are the author’s. 

Wilson Kerr lives in Acton and is an avid outdoorsman and amateur naturalist. This monthly column is written to help grow awareness of the wonders of nature. In this increasingly fast-paced and technology-packed world, it is important to stop and take in the beauty of our area and the animals that inhabit it. The author hopes this column will be read by families and used as a teaching tool and that you will spend more … Time Outdoors.