I shouldn't take photos. I shouldn't start using a name. These are bonding actions. And so far, life has been most unkind to the tiny bit of bunny life now thrust completely into my care. Raising a single kit without the help of a doe often ends in loss. So keep your distance. Do not get attached. You've been warned. I, on the other hand, need to invest enough emotion in this potential puff ball to commit to the time and effort needed to keep his/her life going.
The litter this baby started with was due on Wednesday, April 18. The mother rabbit started nesting a week in advance, which is generally a very good sign. On due day, she built and ate 5 separate nests, all of them on the wire, not in the nest box I provided to her. I kept replenishing her supply of hay, waiting for that happy discovery of a healthy litter in the nest. But something interferred. I suspect the kits were too large to easily advance through birth. The doe did not appear to be laboring until Friday, the 20th. Even then, she did not show any real distress, just that "I'm uncomfortably pregnant" look I remember from the end of my own baby carrying days. There is little to do to help a rabbit with a stuck kit. We're talking tiny structures where even a single finger is too big. Oxytocin can help but can only be given if the doe is in active labor. Taking her to the vet would invariably halt labor and vets won't (or can't, not sure which) sell me the dose to give at home. She wasn't displaying any signs of needing a c-section, which is something I would only consider if needed to save the doe's life, because rabbits do not do well with anesthesia. The only thing left for me to try was herbal remedies. Raspberry leaves are often cited as helping with labor so I went out and bought her a raspberry bush. And some lavendar, also suggested to help. She eagerly munched down on the raspberry leaves. But by midnight, still no babies. I checked again at 2 am. No babies. They finally 
showed up sometime after 6 am Saturday morning. At least half the litter was dead, no organized nest, and I found three live but chilled and gasping kits strewn throughout the scattered hay, and none in the protection of the little bit of wool the mother pulled. Those three I hustled into the house for warming in a baggie floating in warm water. That's Li'l Bit there on the top, upside down, the biggest in the litter at 2 1/2 ounces. While they warmed, I went out to tidy the doe's hutch and to make sure she was ok. Once the kits were sufficiently warm, I put them in the nest I arranged in the nest box, first showing them to their mother so she would know they were back. Rabbits tend to feed their babies only once, maybe twice, a day, often in the early morning. Sometimes that first feeding does not take place for a full 24 hours or longer.
Sunday morning, I checked and the kits did not appear fed but they did not appear to be withering, either. I had another rabbit to deal with, a doe from the December litter. She had gone to a new home end of March, but it did not work out, and I headed out to bring her back. She was nearly 2 hours away so I was gone for 6 hours. I don't know what happened with that rabbit but I discovered when we got home that she was seriously under weight. And a bit traumatized from all the changes in her life in a short time. I spent some cuddle time with her after she ate to try to ease her worried mind. Then I checked on the kits again. They were still safely tucked in the nest. I didn't think they'd been fed but they didn't appear distressed, either. Even the little one was a bit on the big side for newborn baby rabbits. Sadly, come Monday morning's check on the kits, I found 2 of the three cold and lifeless away from the nest bowl and the warmth of the angora wool they sleep in.
The big one, Li'l Bit, the sole survivor, now faced an uncertain future. Kits rely on the combination of shared body heat trapped in their mother's wool to stay warm. During summer's heat, one kit might be able to survive in the nest alone, but the wacky weather around here lately had just plummeted from 70s and 80s with warm nights to stormy 50s and chilly overnights. I brought the baby in the house for warming and a meal of molasses thinned in warm water. Molasses provides immediate energy they can absorb through their gums, which allows them to warm their insides so digestion can take place. Later, with the kit warmed and able to nurse, I reunited baby with mom. Sadly, mom has no interest in the baby. Clearly, her hormones reverted to non-nurturing status. The 
baby's best hope now lay with another doe, Star, who was due for babies on Friday, the 20th. But again, with the delayed birth came the likelihood of another unhappy outcome. Or the possibility she wasn't pregnant at all. Li'l Bit's nursery now is a box with hay and angora in the house. When no new babies had arrived by Monday night, I went in search of goat's milk to feed the singleton. Neither pet shop had any, but I finally found some at a grocery store next town over. Hand feeding newborn kits is a very delicate operation. First, they must stay warm enough to have energy to eat and digest. Second, getting food into them without drowning them is tricky. I wrap them like little burritos in a soft cloth, both to keep them warm while feeding and to limit their frantic movements so I have an easier target. Forget those baby animal nurser bottles and nipples. Too big, too uncooperative. I use a 1 cc syringe and offer it one drop at a time on the lips, not in their mouths. Li'l Bit is quite an enthusiastic feeder, occasionally lunging for the tip of the syringe. That's good, in that the baby is healthy enough to do that. Dangerous because it's hard to control where the food goes. Up the nose or directly into the throat could easily lead to mucking up the lungs.
This morning's first check on Li'l Bit showed how difficult maintaining temperature is for a singleton. Too much heat will kill a baby faster than chilling will, so overnight, when I am sleeping, I cannot use an external heat source for the baby. And that meant Li'l Bit was a bit on the cool side first thing this morning. Still hoping for Star to have kits, I got Li'l Bit warmed and fed, then checked outside on the hopefully now mother doe. No. Babies. No evidence Star had any interest in a nest. No evidence she was even in labor. This being day 35 of what is usually a 31 day gestation, chances she'd have babies at all were dim. Back in the house, I was not happy with Li'l Bit's warming process so tucked the baby under my shirt for next to skin warmth. While I hate to have a baby in need like that, I admit feeling a baby moving brings out all my maternal instincts. I have now given in, fallen in love, and desperately want this baby to live, all the while knowing the odds are against it. Raising baby animals, especially rabbits, is not for the faint of heart.
And as I was composing this, I realized with my focus on Li'l Bit, I still hadn't fed the other rabbits. I headed out and decided to check Star to see if she was even pregnant. But as I prepared to palpate, I noticed the nest in her nest box appeared slightly different. I put my hand in and discovered 
a baby. Sadly cold and apparently lifeless. I searched more and found a second one, also cold. But when I picked them up, the second one moved. Life!! I hustled in the house with both and put them in a baggie to float in a warming bath. Sadly, my initial assessment on the first one proved correct. The white one did not survive. But the black kit is a whopping 3 ounces of brand new born healthy kit. Li'l Bit's survival odds have now greatly increased. And conveniently, the Big Hopper and Li'l Bit are different colors so I can tell them apart. All that remains to be seen now is if Star is in mothering mode.
