Indiana weather lost its mind this week — tornado heat, sideways rain, then a snap to 20° with ice and snow. The barn felt it. So did the rabbits.
From Foxy’s litter, three marked harlequins were held back. Two are solid and growing. The third was always small — fiery personality, undersized frame. Cute doesn’t equal capacity.
When he started gasping overnight, we intervened hard — antibiotics, probiotics, glucose, warmth, airway support. He still didn’t see morning.
Regardless of the intervention and my lack of sleep.
Failure to thrive isn’t poetic. It’s physiology. If a kit never builds reserve, a stress spike will find the fault.
Raise livestock long enough and you will bury some of them.
That’s natural selection pressure.
We root for every one.
But we breed for the ones built to survive Indiana’s chaos.