Tales of the Bunny Coven

. . . and a hard lesson learned. I swear the following is the absolute truth - I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't experienced it.

Several years ago a (now ex) friend and I decided to start our own Pagan group for ritual purposes. We recruited two people initially, and we all took turns leading eclectic rituals about every three weeks. Everything worked smoothly for a while, but then the two people we had recruited got obsessed with bunny rabbits.

Yes, you read that correctly.

They wanted to incorporate bunny names into our group, and kept fooling around during ritual - they did things like mimicing buck teeth, hopping about, etc. Neither of us co-founders liked this development, but because she lacks courage and will avoid confrontation like the plague, my so-called partner abruptly quit the group, and refused to tell the other two why - she kept promising that she would, but just didn't.

The other two people were surprisingly upset by this idiot’s actions and refusal to talk to them, but I was determined not to do her explaining for her. In retrospect I shouldn't have worried about hurting their feelings. To carry on we found other people who were interested in joining us, and that was fine, except they thought the bunny thing was hilarious.

In my defense I kept saying that I thought the bunny thing was stupid, but I didn't really put my foot down because I didn't want the group to be hierarchical - partly because I didn't want to end up being the leader all the time. Unfortunately because of my determination to be in a democracy, the others were able to overrule me. I truly thought and hoped that they would get bored with the bunny obsession before too long (the Gods all know I was bored), and believed that if kept making my objections known, it would die a natural death. I obviously made a huge mistake in not quashing the thing immediately.

Other than the bunny thing, the group worked quite well, and we all learned stuff from one another. The problem was that the bunny obsession was taking over. Everybody but me all picked out a bunny name - Easter, Chocolate, Buggs, Jessica (as in Jessica Rabbit) and Ricochet. I refused to co-operate, insisting that they call me by my right name, and informing them that I found the Bunny thing intensely irritating.

Their argument was that Rabbits and Hares are sacred to the Goddess - and this is true. I have no problem with sacred animals, believe me. I might not even have had a problem with the whole bunny thing, if they didn't use it as an excuse to fool around all the time.

The bunny thing initially was just an irritating running joke - but then it mushroomed overnight into a giant out-of-control were-rabbit intent on making me crazy. By the time I realized the thing was out of control, it was far too late. The next thing I knew, there was a theme song - Little Rabbit Frou Frou:

Little rabbit frou frou, running through the forest
Scooping up the field mice and bashing them on the head
Along came a good fairy and she said: Little rabbit frou frou I don't like your attitude
Scooping up the field mice and bashing them on the head
I'll give you 3 more chances and then I'll turn you into a goon

They soon began acting out the actions of this little ditty, as well as singing it at every possible opportunity. When they started to try and think up a good bunny name for the group that we could call ourselves in public, I refused to contemplate any of them. Then they made plans to get us all got bunny ears and tails to wear during ritual.

While I like to have fun in ritual too, I take my relationship with the Gods very seriously. I was really uncomfortable with these developments, and said so - but I was outnumbered and my concerns were pooh-poohed. I was seriously considering leaving the group too when things came to a head at an open ritual held by another Pagan group. The group I was involved with did an impromptu public rendition of Little Rabbit Frou Frou in front of about 60 people from the local pagan community. The general reaction of the witnesses to the song was to laugh uneasily, and avoid eye contact (at least that is what I thought).

Frankly I was embarrassed to be associated with them, even though I was physically nowhere near the group when they burst into song (and I had no idea whey were going to do that - it was spur of the moment thing on their part). I was humiliated, and I lost my temper on the spot.

I admit that I shouldn't have yelled at them, but it finally got their attention. I told them in no uncertain terms that the bunny obsession made us all look like idiots, and that it had to go, or I would. In a subsequent meeting afterwards (where I apologized for losing my temper) the group insisted that everyone had found their antics funny and highly entertaining, and weren't at all pleased when I informed them they were being laughed at, not with.

I went on to tell them that everyone I had discussed their bunny obsession with thought that it was ridiculous, not at all amusing; and the vast majority had said that they would not have put up with it. The group maintained that everyone they had discussed it with found it charming, and very very funny. Four out of five of them were in total denial about their childishness, and determined to continue with the bunny stuff - if I found it embarrassing, it just proved there was something wrong with me.

In the end they voted to keep the bunny thing and dump me. I was deeply hurt of course, but rather relieved too.

The group fell apart within six months, and I have a cordial, but distant relationship with everyone who was in it. Of the five others, four of them have made it clear that they think I'm very eccentric, and that they won't work with me in ritual ever again because I'm obviously a loose cannon. The fifth was man enough to say that he understood my reaction, and that he was sorry for what happened.

What I find truly ironic is that four of these people still think I'm the weird one - and have implied as much to others as well. Right - I'm a whacko because I didn't like the idea of adopting a bunny name, wearing ears and a tail, and singing a stupid camp song while performing a kindergarten dance - in public!

Of course I know now that I should have dumped the group as soon as the bunny thing reared its long-eared head. It would have saved me a lot of pain and humiliation if I had done so. There is one good thing to come out of this experience though - my BS tolerance lowered a great deal, and I will never get into such a mess again.