Reflecting on the many rabbits I once knew, now that they have passed away

Injured rabbit after fight

I was looking back at photos of the rabbits on Ohkunoshima—going through thousands of them, one by one.

So many rabbits that hold special memories for me appeared . As various memories came flooding back, I found myself unable to hold back the tears.

That one died, too. And this one. Every time I returned to the island, there were rabbits I would never see again—precious lives I can now only behold in photographs.

A rabbit with a sprained leg. One whose eyes were nearly sealed shut with white discharge. Another struggling to breathe with a blocked nose.

Spending so much time on the island meant we encountered far too many sick or injured rabbits.

When I first started visiting the island, I enjoyed it so much that I couldn't wait for my next visit. The more rabbits there were, the happier I felt. Feeding them was fun, too.

But what about now? Now that I know the reality of the island, all I feel is a surge of anger—anger at the fact that I couldn't save them, and at the situation that remains completely unchanged. That overwhelming feeling inevitably washes over me whenever I look back at these photos.

There was an instance where, as a dead rabbit was being placed in a box and the lid was about to be closed, its partner tried to climb inside. Never had I experienced a moment that tore at my heart quite like that.

Rabbits enduring the pain of injuries, or those lying motionless due to illness—I just want a system established to help such little ones without hesitation. That is all I ask for.