I’ve been a bit laid up with a cranky C2/C4 disc issue, but I see my regular doctor in the morning and I’m back to the chiropractor on Tuesday, so we’re moving in the right direction. In the meantime, I’ve been putting the downtime to good use—taking lots of photos of the rabbits to start evaluating for spring shows and doing some early “spring cleaning” decisions. Figuring out who’s staying in my program, and who might actually thrive better in another barn. I also started breaking down the next class tonight. Scripts are getting polished and ready to record. This one is fats and energy, heavily grounded in COST 848 and de Blas – Nutrition of the Rabbit. Still waiting to hear back from feed companies for Module 6 (fiber), so I’ll poke them again in the morning. All things considered, it’s been a productive start to the year. How’s everyone else doing in their first week of 2026?

I’ve had a few conversations lately about how people decide who stays and who goes, so I figured I’d share how I handle culling and see how others approach it too—because this is one of those topics where goals really matter. For me, everything gets scored early. I try to take emotion out of it and look at structure, growth, and what the breed is actually supposed to do. In general, does can stay if they’re Quality 1 or Quality 2. Bucks have to be Quality 1 or truly exceptional type, and I’ll only keep a Q2 buck on certain colors if there’s a real reason. Everything else gets sold or processed. Simple, even if it’s not always easy. Where it gets more interesting is growth expectations, because I don’t use the same yardstick for every breed. With New Zealands, they’re a big commercial breed. Adults need to land in that 9.5–12 lb range, so I expect kits to show it early. If they aren’t hitting about 3.5 lb by 8 weeks, they don’t stay. With Senita, I’m intentionally pushing size. I want 10 lb minimum adults, preferably 11+, so my expectations are higher. 4 lb at 8 weeks is my floor, but what I really like to see is 5–6 lb and a body that says “I’m going to be big.” Harlequins get a little more grace, because they’re a smaller breed overall. Since they top out around 7–9 lb, I can live with around 3 lb at 8 weeks if the type and color are really correct. Structure still matters, but I’m not asking them to grow like a commercial rabbit. Across the board, some things are still instant deal-breakers for me: narrow frames, pinched hips, V feet, undercut bodies. Color never saves bad structure. Ever. That said—this is just my system, built around meat, commercial type, and breed development. I’m curious how others handle it: Do wool breeders prioritize fleece quality over early growth? How much weight do lop breeders put on ear length or ear carriage when deciding who stays? Are you culling hard at 8 weeks, or giving longer-maturing lines more time? What traits are non-negotiable in your program?

✅ FACT: Welfare is about design and management, not whether a cage exists. This infographic breaks down something the research has shown over and over again: properly sized, clean, well-managed enclosures reduce stress, injury, and disease. Poorly managed free-roam or park systems do the opposite. Rabbits are not dogs. They’re not toddlers. They’re prey animals with very specific biological needs — dryness, predictability, personal space, and correct flooring. Bottom line: Cages don’t cause suffering. Bad husbandry does. 👉 Drop your thoughts below: What myths about rabbit housing do you still see repeated online? What changed for you when you improved enclosure design or sanitation? If you’ve raised rabbits in multiple systems, what differences did you observe? Let’s talk evidence, not aesthetics.

Mine decided to go a little… extra. The day kicked off with a follow-up ER visit from a fall last Sunday that knocked me out cold and left the entire left side of my body filing a formal complaint. Add in Indiana’s latest cold snap and my sciatica flared hard enough that I had to bail out of work early thanks to some truly Olympic-level shooting pain down my back and leg. The verdict: high-dose pain meds, strict bed rest for the next four days, and instructions to not be heroic. The silver lining? I’m still upright enough to type — and I have my laptop and phone. So I’ve been using forced downtime to crank through content, migrate videos off TikTok, and re-upload educational material here on Skool where it actually belongs. So if you see new videos popping up… that’s me, horizontal, medicated, and productive in spite of myself. 😄 Here’s hoping the year ends weird but starts smarter. Happy New Year, everyone.

It’s worth clarifying that rabbits don’t form social bonds in the way people often imagine. What’s commonly called “bonding” is actually the establishment of a dominance hierarchy. One rabbit learns to submit so conflict is avoided, not because of affection. Multiple studies using behavioral observation and cortisol (stress hormone) measurements have shown that co-housing—especially forced pairs or groups—can increase chronic stress in rabbits. In these setups, other rabbits often become a primary stressor rather than a comfort. This has been demonstrated repeatedly in both laboratory and applied welfare research over the past two decades. Many rabbits do best when housed individually with appropriate enrichment, routine, and human interaction. They can feel secure, relaxed, and mentally stimulated without the pressure of constant social negotiation. While a small number of rabbits may tolerate a companion, pairing should never be treated as a universal requirement or a guarantee of improved welfare. Good rabbit care is about reducing stress and respecting natural behavior—not projecting human ideas of friendship onto an animal with a very different social system.