What I Dragged Home

Sorry for the ominous title — but it's honestly not a stretch from what I actually did.

Today, I want to talk about one of the weirdest and strangest hobbies I have — one I absolutely cannot tell anyone about in real life.

I like decomposing animals and keeping parts of them, because I think they’re beautiful, and in a way, it feels like honoring the dead. I’ve always been very into animals. I pretty much love all creatures, so a lot of my hobbies revolve around them — but it’s not just living animals that I’m drawn to.

For the past few years, I’ve been collecting animal bones or carcasses and decomposing them in my backyard. Just for the record, so no one thinks I’m psycho: I have never harmed or injured a live animal to do this, and I never would. I also would never take anyone’s pet without permission. That’s just not who I am.

About a month ago, I was walking home and came across a beautiful bunny on my street. At first, from far away, I thought it might still be alive — it looked perfectly intact. But up close, I could tell it was definitely dead. In case you're wondering how I knew: its heart wasn’t beating, its eyes were completely glossed over, and rigor mortis had already started to set in.

I ran home, begged my parents to let me go get it, grabbed a bag and gloves, and brought the bunny to my backyard. I knew it hadn’t been dead long — it wasn’t there during lunch, and I found it later that same afternoon.

Then came the question: what was I going to do with it?

I knew I really wanted the feet — to make keychains — and the skull for my collection. So, with a lot of determination and using a steak knife (since my family is very much not into this and refuses to clean anything bigger than a fish), I dismembered the back feet and placed them into a jar of alcohol.

Next came the head. That part scared me — I’d never done anything like that before. But this time I used a much better fish-cleaning knife and decapitated the bunny. Honestly, I felt proud. I had done something I knew no one at my school would ever even think of doing — and definitely not something my parents could stomach seeing.

At that point, I figured I might as well try to skin it and keep the pelt. Somehow — with no experience, no practice, and no guidance — I managed to skin the bunny using just my fish knife, and in my opinion, it turned out pretty well. I even went for the ears too, because why not?

Oh — and did I mention it was raining the whole time? Everything was soaked — the bunny, the cutting board, the knife — and somehow I didn’t cut myself or ruin anything. Total miracle.

Over the next week, I preserved the legs and ears, tanned and dried the pelt, and somehow, everything turned out great.

Here’s how it all looks:

I'm actually pretty proud of myself for being able to do this, because I hope to possibly become an equine vet when I'm older. Being able to handle gory stuff in less-than-ideal conditions is something that’s really good to know I’m capable of. I think the reason I can do these kinds of things is because, in the moment, I treat it like a task. I'm focused, not freaked out.

Anyway, that’s the story of how I dragged home a bunny and kept it for myself.

I also have many more stories about this hobby — including the time people from my school saw me doing it. So if you'd like to hear more, let me know below! And if you're into this hobby too, I have a super rewarding upside to it that I’ve been taking advantage of for years. Seriously, if you're into it, tell me what’s in your collection!

P.S. The bunny’s cause of death was definitely from a fox bite to the neck, which caused internal bleeding — so that explains why it was in such good condition when I found it.