Rabbit Stories for Kids

Ruby the rabbit was the fastest animal in the meadow. She knew it, and she made sure everyone else knew it too. She zoomed past the tortoises with a cheerful "Excuse me, coming through!" She lapped the hedgehogs. She challenged every creature she met to a race. She always won. One day the meadow animals decided they needed someone to deliver an important warning to the village on the far hill. A weasel had been spotted near the chicken coop, and the chickens needed to know. Everyone looked at Ruby. "Easily done," she said, and zoomed off. She ran so fast she overshot the path to the village and ended up at the wrong hill. She turned around and ran back. She ran so hard through the farmyard that she startled the chickens worse than any weasel would have, and they scattered in all directions. In the confusion, the message got garbled. Nobody was quite sure what the warning had been. The tortoise, Gus, arrived at the village an hour later. He'd found the right path by reading the stone markers carefully as he walked. He delivered the message in a clear, calm voice. The farmer came with his dog and chased off the weasel. The chickens were safe. Ruby sat on a fence post watching all of this. Gus climbed up beside her. "You're faster than me," he said. "I really am," Ruby said. "But I knew where I was going," he said, not unkindly. Ruby thought about this. She was quiet for a while, which was also not usually her way. "Next time," she said, "maybe I should ask the best way before I start running." "That would help a lot," Gus agreed. Ruby came to Gus for directions three times in the next week. She still ran everywhere. But she ran in the right direction.

Pip the rabbit was afraid of the dark. Not just a little afraid. Very, very afraid. When the sun went down, Pip went deep into the burrow and stayed there until morning, even if everyone else was still outside. The other young rabbits went out on warm summer evenings to watch fireflies and eat the dewy grass. Pip watched from the burrow entrance, nose twitching, not quite able to step out. One evening old Nan sat beside her at the entrance. "Why don't you come?" she asked. "It's dark," Pip said. "Yes," said Nan. "What's the scariest part?" Pip thought. "Not seeing what's there." "Ah," Nan said. "But your nose can smell things in the dark that your eyes would miss in daylight. And your ears hear things too." Pip flicked her ears. She could hear the grass moving. She could smell the cool earth and the dew and something sweet she thought might be clover. "Try one step," Nan said. Pip stepped out of the burrow. One step. She stood very still and listened and smelled. Everything her nose and ears told her felt familiar. "One more?" Nan suggested. Two steps. They stood outside for five minutes. Then ten. Then the fireflies came and Pip found she'd moved halfway into the meadow without noticing. She went back inside on her own terms when she was ready. Each evening after that she went a little further. By the end of the summer she was watching fireflies with the others, ears up, eyes bright. She was still sometimes afraid of the dark. But she'd learned it was a feeling she could walk through, one small hop at a time.

Clover the rabbit had found the most extraordinary vegetable garden. The gate was broken and she'd slipped inside and found rows of carrots, cabbages, and something red and round she didn't have a name for. She ate until she was full. Then she looked at all the food still there. She could come back. She could eat here every day. She could tell no one. She started to hop away. Then she thought of her neighbor, old Mr. Bramble, who had trouble getting to the meadow now that his back leg ached. She thought of the young mouse family who'd moved to the hedge and were still finding their way around. She stood at the gate for a long moment. She went home and came back with Mr. Bramble, moving slowly because he needed to. Then she found the mouse family and showed them the garden path. She brought her sister's three kits, who had never seen a carrot garden before and went absolutely wild with excitement. By the time everyone had eaten and explored and played among the cabbage rows, the garden was livelier than it had been in years. The birds in the apple tree at the garden's edge seemed to approve; they sang all afternoon. Going home, Mr. Bramble patted Clover's shoulder with one paw. "You could have kept it to yourself," he said. "I thought about it," Clover admitted. "Most do," he said. "But you didn't. That's the part that counts." Clover went home full and happy. She realized that eating wonderful carrots alone would have been nice. Eating wonderful carrots with everyone she cared about had been something else entirely. She'd have to find that garden again tomorrow.

Hazel the rabbit had lived on the meadow's edge her whole life and never once had a best friend. She had neighbors and acquaintances and animals she nodded to at the stream. But not a friend who knew her favorite things and her silly jokes and the way she always sneezed exactly three times when the dandelions were seeding. She'd started to wonder if she was just not very interesting. One rainy morning she found a hedgehog sitting under the big mushroom at the meadow edge. He was small and damp and looked like he'd rather be somewhere else. "Hello," she said. "Hello," he said. They looked at the rain for a while. "I'm Hazel." "I'm Tom." More rain. Then: "I love rain," Hazel said. "I know it's unusual for a rabbit. The burrow floods sometimes. But I love the sound of it." Tom turned to look at her. "I love it too. I curl up and just listen for hours." "Really?" Hazel said. "Everyone thinks I should hate it. Too cold. Too wet. But there's something about the sound that makes everything feel quiet." Hazel had never told anyone she loved the rain. She'd assumed they'd think it was odd. They sat under the mushroom for an hour while the rain came down. They talked about sounds they liked (Tom also loved thunder from a distance) and smells they liked (Hazel loved the smell right before rain started, that sharp green smell) and foods they thought were underrated (both agreed the purple berries near the old stone wall were excellent). When the rain stopped, Tom uncurled slowly. "Same spot next rain?" he asked. "Yes," said Hazel. She hopped home quickly because she was smiling too much for anyone to see.

The stone bridge over the meadow stream had a loose stone that wobbled when you stepped on it. Everyone in the meadow complained about it. "That loose stone again," said the fox. "Honestly, something should be done," said the pheasant. "Terribly annoying," said the squirrel. Everyone agreed it was a problem. Nobody did anything about it. Benny the rabbit stepped on the loose stone one morning, felt it wobble, and said to himself: "I wonder how hard it would be to fix." He poked at the stone. It was loose in a bed of old crumbled mortar. If the mortar were repacked, the stone would hold. He wasn't a builder. He had no tools. He thought about this for a few minutes. He went and found the beaver family, who were excellent at understanding how water and stone fit together. He found the mole family, who knew about soil and packing and what held things in place underground. He asked both families if they'd take a look with him. They came. The beavers said the stone needed new mudpacked clay underneath. The moles said the edges needed tamping down. Between the three families, they spent one afternoon fixing the bridge. The next morning the fox, the pheasant, and the squirrel crossed the bridge. "Oh look," said the fox. "The loose stone is fixed." "So it is," said the squirrel. They all crossed without comment and went on with their days. Benny watched from the meadow grass. He didn't need them to say thank you, exactly. But he did feel the particular satisfaction of being the animal who'd noticed the problem, found the people who could help, and made something better. That felt more useful than complaining.

Pip the little rabbit stood at the edge of a wide stream. The far meadow was full of sweet clover, but the water looked deep and fast. "I want to play over there," said Pip. "But I am too small to hop across." His big brother, Rolo, hopped up beside him. "You are not too small," said Rolo. "Watch me. You hop from one flat stone to the next." Rolo hopped to the first stone. He landed soft as a leaf. Then to the next, and the next. In no time, he was on the far side. "Come on, Pip," he called. "You can do it." Pip looked at the stones. His tummy felt like it was full of jumping beans. "What if I fall in?" he said. "Then you get wet," said Rolo. "And then you climb out and try again. But you will not fall. You are a good hopper." Pip took a deep breath. He bent his strong back legs. Then he pushed off the bank and landed on the first stone. It wobbled a little, but he stayed on. "I did it!" he said. "Keep going," said Rolo. "One stone at a time." Pip hopped to the second stone. Then the third. Then the fourth. Before he knew it, he was standing next to his brother in the far meadow. "I made it!" said Pip. "I was so scared, but I made it all the way across." "I knew you would," said Rolo. "Being brave is just doing one small hop at a time." Pip munched the sweet clover and felt big and strong. "Tomorrow, I will hop across all by myself," he said.

Remy the rabbit planted tiny carrot seeds in his garden. He patted the soil and stepped back. "Grow, carrots, grow!" he said. "I want to eat you right now." He waited one whole day. Then he dug up a seed to look at it. It looked exactly the same. "Why are you not growing?" said Remy. He covered it back up and went to find his grandma. "Grandma," he said, "my carrots are not growing. I think they are broken." Grandma smiled. "Carrots are not broken, Remy. They just take time. Did you dig them up to check?" Remy looked at his feet. "Maybe a little bit," he said. "Seeds need to stay in the dark soil," said Grandma. "They need water and sun and quiet. If you dig them up, they get scared and stop growing." "So I should just wait?" said Remy. "Waiting is so hard." "Waiting is part of growing," said Grandma. "Even you grew one small bit at a time when you were tiny." Remy did not dig up the seeds again. Every day he gave them water. Every day he pulled out the little weeds. And every day he waited. One morning, Remy saw small green leaves poking out of the soil. "They are growing!" he shouted. He waited some more. The green tops grew taller and taller. At last, Grandma said it was time to pull. Remy tugged a carrot out of the ground. It was long and orange and perfect. He took a big, happy bite. "The waiting made it sweet," said Grandma. "It really did," said Remy, with orange crumbs on his chin.

Bella the rabbit hopped through the meadow and found the biggest patch of lettuce she had ever seen. It was green and crisp and perfect. "Mine!" she said. "I found it first, so it is all mine." She sat down and began to nibble. Crunch, crunch, crunch. The lettuce was so good. Soon a small mouse came by. Her tummy was rumbling. "That lettuce looks lovely," said the mouse. "May I have just one small leaf?" "No," said Bella. "This is my lettuce. Go find your own." The mouse's ears drooped and she shuffled away. Next a tired bird landed nearby. "I flew a very long way," said the bird. "May I share a leaf with you?" "No," said Bella. "I got here first." The bird flew away, looking sad and hungry. Then a tiny snail inched up. He did not say a word. He just looked at the lettuce with big, hungry eyes. Bella looked at the snail. She looked at the empty spot where the mouse and the bird had stood. Her tummy was full, but her heart felt empty. "Wait!" Bella called out. "Mouse! Bird! Come back! There is more than enough lettuce for all of us!" The mouse and the bird came running back. The snail smiled. They all sat together and shared the big patch of lettuce. "This is the best lettuce I have ever eaten," said the mouse. "It tastes even better when we share it," said Bella. "I did not know that before." The patch was still full of lettuce when they finished. And it had fed four happy friends.

Nibble the rabbit was hopping home with a basket of berries for his family. He was in a hurry. Then he heard a tiny sound. "Peep. Peep. Peep." He looked down and saw a small yellow chick standing all alone near the edge of the woods. Big tears rolled down her fluffy cheeks. "What is wrong, little one?" asked Nibble. "I cannot find my mama," said the chick. "I chased a butterfly and now I am lost." Nibble looked at his basket of berries. His family was waiting for him. But the little chick was so scared and so small. "I will help you," said Nibble. "Do not worry." He set down his basket and stood tall. "Do you remember what your mama sounds like?" he asked. "She goes cluck, cluck, cluck," said the chick. Nibble lifted his long ears. He listened hard. Far away, past the tall grass, he heard a soft clucking. "I hear her!" said Nibble. "Follow me." They walked together through the grass. The chick peeped and peeped. Each time, the clucking got louder and louder. "There you are!" cried a mother hen, running to her chick. She wrapped the little one in her warm wings. "Thank you, kind rabbit," said the mother hen. "You brought my baby home." "It was nothing," said Nibble. "I am glad I could help." He picked up his basket and hopped home. His family was happy to see the berries. But Nibble's heart was even happier than his full basket.

Wren the rabbit was hopping and spinning in the kitchen. She twirled too close to the shelf. Crash! Her mother's pretty water jug tipped over and a small crack ran down its side. "Oh no," said Wren. "Mama loves that jug." Her heart beat fast. She could hide the jug behind the basket. She could say the wind blew it over. But she knew that was not true. Just then, her mother came into the kitchen. "What was that loud noise, Wren?" she asked. Wren looked at her feet. Her mouth felt dry. "I was hopping too fast," she said softly. "I bumped the shelf and the water jug fell. It has a crack now. I am so sorry, Mama." She closed her eyes and waited for her mother to be cross with her. But her mother knelt down and put a paw on Wren's shoulder. "Thank you for telling me the truth, Wren," she said. "That took real courage." "But I broke your pretty jug," said Wren. "Mistakes happen," said Mama. "The jug is just a thing. Your honesty is worth more than any jug in the whole house." They fixed the crack with some sticky clay. The jug still held water, but now it had a little line on it. "Every time I see that line, I will remember to hop more carefully," said Wren. "And I will remember how brave you were to tell the truth," said Mama. She gave Wren a big, warm hug. Wren hugged her back, proud of her honest heart.

Sunny the rabbit had one ear that stood up tall and one ear that flopped down over her eye. All the other rabbits had two ears that stood up straight. "Why is your ear so funny?" giggled one rabbit. Sunny tried to hold her floppy ear up with her paw. But the moment she let go, it flopped right back down. "I wish both my ears were the same," she said. "I look so silly." She hid behind a bush so no one could see her funny ear. Then a new rabbit hopped into the meadow. Her name was Clover, and she had never seen Sunny before. "Hello there," said Clover. "Why are you hiding behind that bush?" "Because of my ear," said Sunny. "One stands up and one flops down. It is silly." Clover came closer and looked. "It is not silly," she said. "It is the best ear I have ever seen. It is like you have two ears in one. One for hearing far away, and one for looking cute." Sunny blinked. "You really think so?" "I really do," said Clover. "Everyone is a little different. That is what makes us all special." Sunny hopped out from behind the bush. She let her floppy ear flop. She did not try to hold it up at all. "Look at my ear!" she said to the other rabbits. "It is my very own special ear." The other rabbits came closer. "It is kind of cute," said one. "It is the very best part of me," said Sunny, and she meant it with her whole heart.

Tumble the rabbit watched his father dig a deep, cozy burrow with big strong paws. Tumble wanted a burrow of his own. "I want to dig a burrow just like yours," said Tumble. "Then start digging," said his father. Tumble scratched at the ground. It was hard and full of stones. His little paws grew tired very fast. After a short while, he had only dug a tiny hole. "This is too hard," said Tumble. "I will never dig a burrow. I quit." His father sat beside him. "No one digs a burrow all at once, Tumble. Even I dug mine a little bit every day. Watch." Father scratched the soil. Scratch, scratch, scratch. A little more dirt flew out. "Now you try a little more," he said. Tumble scratched again. Scratch, scratch, scratch. The hole grew just a tiny bit bigger. "That was not so bad," said Tumble. "Now rest," said Father. "Tomorrow we dig a little more." Every day, Tumble dug a little more. Some days the ground was hard. Some days his paws were sore. But he did not quit. He dug a little, then rested, then dug a little again. One sunny morning, Tumble looked at his work. The hole was deep and wide and cozy. It was a real burrow. "I did it!" he shouted. "I dug my very own burrow!" "I knew you would," said his father. "Little by little, day by day, you got there." Tumble hopped into his new burrow and curled up. It was warm and dark and just right. And it was all his.