In fact, the only rabbits in my life are the cottontails my dog futilely chases during morning walks in north Upland.
But bunnies were once a big deal in the Inland Valley, though not always in a positive sense.
When the region's great agricultural expansion began in the 1890s, public enemy No. 1 were hordes of hungry rabbits who enjoyed lunches of tasty bark from citrus trees conveniently planted there by ranchers.
In Alta Loma, farmers took the desperate step of putting up a bunny barrier, following a technique used by Mormon farmers in Utah.
A wall was built around fields along Ramona Avenue south of 19th Street, with only limited success.
Grabbing their firearms, groups of ranchers regularly headed off into the fields determined to shoot every rabbit they could find. Local papers even listed the results of the hunts, praising the sharpshooters with the most kills.
As the years passed, though, there came a need for more meat for rapidly growing Southern California, and rabbits as well as pigs and chickens were a lot easier to raise locally than beef.
In early 1925, the Pomona Valley had become the rabbit center of the region, with 300 breeders every month shipping abut 40,000 pounds of meat to markets in Los Angeles.
It was about this time that the government determined a need for research into better breeding techniques for rabbits.
(Not to split hares here, but doesn't it seem odd anybody needed to improve breeding among rabbits? Given their reputation, this would seem to be the least of their problems.)
A search began to find a site for a rabbit research station in the Inland Valley.
At the end of 1925, the Pomona Progress said city officials were confident that the Department of Agriculture would locate the research facility at the new county fairgrounds. Pomona had just hosted the national rabbit breeders convention - another factor they believed would help their chances.
However, Pomona didn't count on the determination of A.B. Miller, the founder of modern Fontana, operator of large rabbit and pig ranches, and an innovator in agricultural production.
He offered the government a deal that couldn't be refused - a 5-acre site for $1 on Cypress Avenue just south of Foothill Boulevard. He also provided $30,000 more for equipment and buildings.
The research station opened March 3, 1928, with a gala party for Fontana and area rabbit fanciers. The festivities began with a luncheon - with all the courses including rabbit.
An evening banquet - likely featuring more of you-know-what - was followed by a fashion show of new styles with rabbit fur.
Once it got going in earnest, the research station did significant work in improving the breeds and productivity of rabbit ranching.
In the 23 years Dr. George S. Templeton was director of the station, scientists figured out how to increase the weight of each rabbit while cutting feed costs by a quarter.
When the station opened, the average female rabbit (called a doe) produced 4 to 5 litters a year. That increased to 9 to 10 a year, which even for rabbits is darn impressive.
At its height, the station was home to 4,000 rabbits - every one of them doing its best to make more and bigger bunnies at less cost.
The facility operated for 37 years, finally closing in June 1965. It is now a state historic landmark.
Now I must also confess a bit of prejudice about rabbits. I once had one - my daughter left it for me as a parting gift when she moved out.
And I never realized how bad-tempered they could be. Every time it was fed, it would lunge at me with a grotesque grunt.
I now see the anger of Elmer Fudd in a whole new light.
Joe Blackstock writes on Inland Valley history. He can be reached at 909-483-9382, by email at firstname.lastname@example.org or Twitter @JoeBlackstock.