On Japan’s Okunoshima Island, visitors are greeted not by sandy beaches or souvenir shops, but by hordes of fluffy, fearless rabbits. Hundreds of them hop freely across this tiny landmass in the Seto Inland Sea, earning it the nickname “Usagi Jima” (Rabbit Island). But beneath the adorable surface lies a history as dark as a storm cloud—one that makes the island’s bunny boom all the more surreal.
Okunoshima’s rabbit population began as an unintended consequence of its grim past. During World War II, the island housed a secret chemical weapons factory producing toxic gases. The facility was erased from maps, and workers were sworn to silence. After Japan’s surrender, the site was abandoned, and the truth emerged decades later. But how did rabbits take over? Theories abound: some say they’re descendants of test animals used in gas experiments; others claim schoolchildren released eight pet rabbits in 1971. Whatever the origin, the lack of natural predators (no foxes, no hawks, just confused seagulls) let them multiply into a cotton-tailed army.
Today, Okunoshima is a paradox. Tourists flock here to snap selfies with bunnies that swarm like furry paparazzi, demanding snacks. The island’s museum details its toxic past, but most visitors skip straight to the carrot dispensers. The rabbits, now numbering over 1,000, have become accidental eco-ambassadors, drawing attention to the island’s eerie history while munching their way to internet fame.
Life as an Okunoshima rabbit isn’t all clover and cuddles. The island has strict rules: no dogs or cats (to protect the bunnies), no feeding them human junk food (carrots only, please), and no trying to smuggle one home in your backpack (yes, people have tried). The rabbits, meanwhile, have mastered the art of cuteness extortion—flopping onto their backs for belly rubs or chasing visitors until snacks appear. They’re like tiny, fuzzy mobsters running a carrot-based racket.
Scientists debate the ethics of feeding wild rabbits, but locals lean into the tourism boom. The island’s lone hotel offers bunny-themed rooms, and the gift shop sells rabbit-everything, from socks to sushi rolls. Even the ferry ride over feels like a prelude to a whimsical dystopia: “Welcome to Rabbit Island! Please don’t mention the chemical weapons.”
So, if you’re craving a trip that mixes WWII history with a side of overwhelming fluffiness, Okunoshima delivers. Just watch your step—between the rabbit holes and the remnants of gas storage facilities, this island is a masterclass in contrasts. And remember: those bunnies aren’t just cute. They’re survivors, turning a chapter of human folly into a hop-filled redemption story. Just don’t ask them about their great-grandparents. Some histories are better left buried under a pile of hay.
