Farewell

This is my final post, until I meet my Mr. BunBuns!

For my last post, I thought I'd add all the cute little pictures I didn't post before. :)

Harvey, being cute:

 

Satin angoras from Crystal:

Baby bunny from Crystal:

Reconciliation

So I caved. I felt bad for getting mad at Jason when he was only thinking practically about our situation.

The truths:

-          We have no space for a rabbit at the moment.

-          He is still encouraging me to purchase an Angora in the future, and wouldn’t want to hinder my knitting or spinning hobbies.

-          Before he or I can keep any animals, it is imperative to clear the space in the back for it would be mean to not have a place for our pets to roam.

I hate when he’s right. I apologized and we discussed, and agreed, that though we have good intentions to purchase a bunny, it was not the right time for it. At least when we decide it is the right time to get an English Angora, we’ll have contacts and the necessary information to hunt for the ideal rabbit.

Drop Spindle

I bought my drop spindle from NW Handspun Yarns. Karen wasn’t there, but the cashier, an older woman with short hair that I haven’t seen before, let me have a ball of practice yarn for free. :) It is quite beautiful, varnished with a purple heart color and small. Most importantly, it spins forever without wobbling sideways or jerky teetering.

Since I can’t get a rabbit now, I figure I’ll need to practice spinning other fibers so I won’t waste the Angora wool when I do purchase one.
I am still sad I cannot purchase a rabbit though. :(

:( (Sad Face)

Jason and I are not talking. He will not allow me to have the rabbit because we haven’t cleared the lot in the back yet. I pleaded, gave him a series of whiny noises, and even gave him a bit of the silent treatment. But it wouldn’t do.

            Though, if he did give in solely because I acted like a petulant brat, I would probably respect him less. He is the logical, pragmatic, and practical one at the moment, whereas I am the one driven by my impulsive emotions to purchase a rabbit I can’t house, since my apartment does not allow pets in the unit. If Jason was willing, he would keep the rabbit at his place, but he doesn’t want to purchase a rabbit or even a goat without ample space in the yard to let them roam. Very reasonable. Very smart. Yet I am very annoyed with this situation.

            Poo.    

Bunny!

I found him. The perfect little bunny rabbit.

            Jason and I drove to Seattle to look at the rabbits. As we walked up the steps to their house, the smell of bunny urine intensified as we neared the door. A small I was not excited for. Kyle and his wife, Aundi, who sat on the couch with a towel in her lap, greeted us with big smiles. Along the walls stood a spinning wheel and bags of white wool, which I assumed was from their many rabbits (twenty-five to be exact), awaiting to be spun and dyed.

They told us to sit on the couch and Aundi reached over and placed the towel on my lap.

“Be careful when you pick him up. His feet might scratch so keep the towel underneath.

I pulled down the ends of the white cloth and there, no bigger than football, sat the smoke pearl rabbit I saw in the picture.

His fur didn’t mat yet, but my fingers could not stop petting his furry body. I wanted to pull him to my face and give him Eskimo kisses. The fluff covered most of his eyes as if he were sleeping on my lap. My hands wrapped around him and pulled him closer to my chest. I fought the desire to hug him and squeeze his tiny body. He was my bunny. My quest felt nearly complete.

Kyle kept talking about the grooming measures of angoras – the brush to use, how often to brush them, what cage to keep them in, how the gray color would turn into smoke pearl as it matured and the fiber would be light enough to dye any color.

Then they showed another rabbit, the smoke pearl’s brother. It was smaller, just as fluffy but the color of cinnamon. Jason took a liking to him because they had one thing in common – ginger features. 

 He was adorable. They were both adorable. My eyes switched back and forth between the cinnamon and smoke pearl, but the smoke pearl rabbit was it.

Kyle continued with more grooming tips. I processed his words, but could not keep from looking at the smoke pearl bunny in my arms. I turned to Jason, saying “aww” and pouting my bottom lip out. My mouth formed the words “I want him”, but Jason kept shaking his head saying no, not right now.

I wanted the rabbit. My heart marked him mine. A cunning plan devised in my head if I couldn’t sway Jason to agree to get the bunny. Maybe a friend or a cousin could take me to Seattle, “rabbit-nap” him (only after paying for it), and bring him to my apartment even though they don’t allow pets except for cats. That way I would be taking care of him and Jason wouldn’t know unless I told him (his car doesn’t do well in long distances). The bunny was still 4 weeks and legally could not be sold until it was at least 8 weeks. So time was on my side giving me a month to plan this out.

Maybe if my charms didn’t work, I could bribe him with food and pastries?

Crap. I just remembered he’s on a diet.   

The Joy of Spinning

Today, I met Harvey. Earlier this week, I visited her and she suggested it was time to meet Harvey, especially as my rabbit research progressed toward finding the perfect bunny. It was time she would introduce me to her own English angora.

            When I saw him, I was surprised with how large Harvey was. He was cuter than Vanilla Bean because the hair around his face was cut back to reveal his eyes - something rabbit owners can do if you don’t plan on showing your rabbit. It was still surprising how big Harvey was, even after meeting Vanilla Bean. They were about the same size, both as big as my parents’ dog, Cow, who by the way is about ten pounds. Karen assured me, just like Crystal, that they just look big, it’s their wool that gives them that illusion of being so fluffy, but underneath their coat their bodies were tiny creatures. She handed Harvey over and I felt just how skeletal his body was underneath, much like Vanilla Bean. 

            As I marveled over her rabbit, Karen pulled out a plastic bag of brushes she uses to brush Harvey’s coat and laid them out on the floor in front of her. Her hands extended out to reclaim her rabbit and I abided. She petted Harvey’s body, scratching the space between and behind his ears as his eyes closed, relaxing in his owner’s arms. After a few minutes, Karen carefully turned him over on his back and laid Harvey down on her outstretched legs. Karen continued to pet Harvey head as he closed his eyes, his tiny paws suspended in the air. He looked as if he fell into some trance, asleep by some hypnotic spell. With one free hand, she grabbed a brush and showed me how she grooms him, while Harvey kept still on his back. 

 I tried to reach for him, fascinated that he remained obedient, but as my hand neared, he jerked back on his feet. He hopped about in the upstairs office in the yarn store, and I gushed as he climbed inside overturned boxes, stood on his hind paws, and leaped into my lap, sniffing my jeans.

            Looking at Harvey, my decision was confirmed even more, that the English angora was the ideal rabbit I was looking for.

            As we watched Harvey wander about, Karen showed me a red Nike shoebox filled to the brim with Harvey’s fur. “This has only been since Christmas.” Two months ago! My mouth dropped and I stuck my hand inside to feel the soft fibers. This silly gesture filled me with a sense of giddiness and excitement for when it came time to finally purchase a rabbit of my own. Karen plucked a small tuft of wool and gave it to me, a little keepsake of Harvey. Then she asked me about spinning.

            “I have no idea how it’s done,” I told her, “but that’s one of the objectives of getting a rabbit. I’d really like to learn to feed my own knitting and not pay someone else to do it.”

            We walked away from Harvey and headed to the weaving room. Along a wall was a shelf full of drop spindles stuffed inside a brown basket and other that hung on a long twine. She picked a light pine spindle with a large circular head and an attached hook, grabbed a bin labeled “Practice Wool” and called me over to a table. From the bin, she pulled out a red-orange ball of yarn, lightly tugging the fibers from one end, twisting it between her fingers, and attaching it to the brass hook of the spindle. Once the fibers were twisted and securely attached to the hook, she spun the handle of the spindle against her right leg and I watched the fibers intertwine in suspension. Periodically, she twisted the spindle against her leg to keep a steady momentum as she continually pulled fibers from the red-orange ball. As she kept pulling the fibers out, it lengthened the distance between the yarn and the hook of the spindle.

            As she spun, Karen explained that the mark of a good spindle was balance and that the spindle she was using was of the “cheaper end” as her own spindle spun about with jerky movements and teetered sideways. After a couple of spins, Karen hands me the yarn and spindle and tells me to play with it as she checks up on Harvey.

            My fingers fumbled, unsure how to alternate between pulling the yarn and when to spin it. I was able to get some twists going before I overspun the fiber causing it to separate from the ball of yarn and onto the floor.

“Those are weak spots in the fiber,” Karen said. “To prevent that, you need to tug the same amount of fibers from the ball every time and before you spin.”

I had no idea what that meant. But despite my numerous fumbles, I was overjoyed to have tried spinning. I loved knowing that I had witnessed the process of how a ball of yarn was created, that it required skill and precision to make such a mundane looking object. Understanding this time consuming process gave me a greater appreciation for local spinners and fiber breeders. That the quality found in a ball of yarn came from more than a fluffy animal with great fiber, but from people who spent the time turning it into what we see in the stores, and enjoyed it. I respected their patience and hard-work and realized I wanted to be a part of that small collection of people who saw the value in spinning, even if it would serve to be a part-time hobby.

            I tried out a handful of different spindles and tried to spin with a few on the pricier end. There was a smoother, well-balanced sense of quality to these spindles that could not be put into dollars or cents. After narrowing my options, I asked Karen to put aside two spindles made from local companies – Spindlewood from Oregon and Cascade Spindles from Kent, WA - until Monday after I talked to Jason about my newfound hobby.

The Cost of Mr. BunBuns

After talking with Crustal and discovering the average cost of an angora rabbit, I needed to know if there were any financial benefits of having an angora rabbit. To determine this, I needed to know the average cost of wool per ounce. Compare that with the total cost of purchasing, housing, and caring for the rabbit – i.e. feeding and housing for Mr. BunBuns. Plus the cost of purchasing the drop spindle, for I need to acquire those skills to utilize the wool it yields.
So how much would my rabbit be worth?

According to Crystal and the sales info on Aundi’s Angora website, the average cost of one Angora rabbit is $100 without a pedigree. (I wouldn’t need a pedigree because I don’t plan on showing my rabbit. If I did plan on doing that, you would slap another $50 to the fee.)

Here is the list of everything else needed for a rabbit:

Outdoor Hutch: $85 - $120, according to Craigslist listing
Housebreaking tools:
- Critter Litter: $7
- Litter Pan: $15
Food: $10 (on average)
Feeders: ~ $10
Grooming Brushes: ~ $30 (includes steel-toothed comb, bulb-tipped brush, etc.)
Drop Spindle: $30

With the above items in mind, I calculated the initial cost of having a rabbit would be around $287 – the total cost of every item listed above. However, after this, the monthly cost for the Angora would include the critter litter and a one-month supply of food, excluding vitamins and supplements. This, according to my list above, would be less than $20 a month.

But the question remains: would the value of the wool acquired eventually pay for itself? After browsing through websites, I discovered the average cost per ounce of angora wool to be $10 to $16. In another website, it stated the total annual yield for one single Angora rabbit ranges from seven to fourteen ounces. That would mean, the lowest yearly cost of the wool my rabbit would produce would be $70. If the table above is accurate, that would mean it would take, at the most, four years before my rabbit could pay for itself.

It is safe to say, that my rabbit may not be a great financial investment than I initially thought. But then again, did I truly desire a rabbit for its financial benefit? Not really. Once I saw how cute they were, I knew I disregarded any logistics in the matter. To me, an angora rabbit would provide endless hours of doing something I enjoyed – spinning and knitting. It was the joy and pride of one day being able to say, “Yes, I did knit this hat. It was made with yarn that I spun myself from my rabbit that I have in the backyard. Would you like to see it?” I wanted self-sustainability, even if it was in the smallest sense of the word.