Bibliothèque de Verdun
Throughout the medieval period rabbits were locked in an eternal battle across the pages of manuscripts. Mankind, dogs, mythical beasts, even woodpeckers: there was nothing a rabbit would not throw down the gauntlet to.

Pictured: Ms 107, Bréviaire de Renaud de Bar (1302-1304), fol.-89r-108r, Bibliothèque de Verdun
Bibliothèque de Verdun
The phenomenon, known as "marginalia," was part of wider mode of subversive art, where illustrators could critique social norms.

Pictured: Ms 107, Bréviaire de Renaud de Bar (1302-1304), fol.-89r-89r, Bibliothèque de Verdun
Bibliothèque de Verdun
Claire Ben Lakhdar, chief curator at the Bibliotheque de Verdun, says rabbits and dogs represent women and men respectively, locked in courtly love.

Pictured: Ms 107, Bréviaire de Renaud de Bar (1302-1304), fol.-89r-137v, Bibliothèque de Verdun
Bibliothèque de Verdun
Not everyone was impressed by these comic doodles. French Cistercian monk Bernard of Clairvaux, who died in 1153, described those in the Decretals as "ridiculous monstrosities."

Pictured: Ms 107, Bréviaire de Renaud de Bar (1302-1304), fol.-89r-141v, Bibliothèque de Verdun
Bibliothèque de Verdun
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the rabbits come off better in the end.

Pictured: Ms 107, Bréviaire de Renaud de Bar (1302-1304), fol.-89r-129r, Bibliothèque de Verdun
Bibliothèque de Verdun
Not content with yoking the canine world, bunnies also went after woodpeckers.

Pictured: Ms 107, Bréviaire de Renaud de Bar (1302-1304), fol.-89r-127v, Bibliothèque de Verdun
Pictured: Royal 10 E IV f. 62, British Museum
British Library
The rabbits found in the "Smithfield Decretals" are an example of le monde renverse or le monder inverse -- "the world turned upside down." Instead of men and women hunting rabbits, humans were the target.

Pictured: Royal 10 E IV f. 62, British Museum
British Library
Two rabbits from the "Smithfield Decretals" pull a captive human towards inevitable doom.

Pictured: Royal 10 E IV f. 61, British Museum
British Library
Rabbits and dogs at it again. However, it looks like the pooch may have backup in the form of a half man-half lion.

Pictured: Royal 10 E IV f. 57v, British Museum
British Library
Is it a fox? Is it a squirrel? This critter looks like it's about to go toe-to-toe with rabbit in a rather formal dual.

Pictured: Yates Thompson 8 f. 171, British Museum
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
Medieval scribes had to create their own nibs by whittling the ends of feathers. To test them, they often drew doodles that were never intended to be seen. Many of the doodles are extremely imaginative. This artist liked to create weird, hybrid creatures.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
Sometimes they would test the pen by playing around with variations of illuminated lettering.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
But it is the funny faces that capture the imagination most, giving us an unprecedented insight into the humor and individuality of medieval monks.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
It is thought that these doodles, of faces in profile with long, sharp noses, were intended to highlight important sections of text.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
Some of the doodles are rather crude, but they may be depicting a scene of importance to the scribe.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
Others are more sophisticated, and demonstrate fledgling artistic talent.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
Doodles were commonly drawn on the back or front pages of books, which were intended to be glued onto the covers, hiding the doodles. But some are found in the margins, as well. These may have been drawn by bored students.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
Scribes also tested their pens with snatches of writing. They normally used their own natural handwriting as opposed to the style required by the manuscript, allowing modern scholars to analyze them more accurately.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
It is difficult to miss the sense of humor that underpins many of these medieval doodles. They were an expression of fun in a more austere age.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
Details like this thumb-print give a sense of humanity to the scribes, who lived more than 700 years ago.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
This doodle, of a man with an oversized crown on his head, contains the first words of the next page to give the reader a "heads-up". It appears in a hymn book, so it would have made it easier to sing fluently.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
On rare occasions, students would scrawl their names in the margins of books, like naughty schoolchildren do today. This one was named "Peter".
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
This theological book has had musical notes from a hymn drawn into it by a reader, for his own amusement. It is one of the earliest examples of musical notation in existence.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
These concentric diagrams may have been experiments in mathematics. Or they may have been ways of idling away the time in a boring lesson.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
This student decided to practice his Greek translation at the top of his textbook.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
These fragments of rare manuscripts were found hidden inside the binding of medieval books.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
The calligraphy is beautiful, but handwritten books had fallen out of fashion with the invention of the printing press in the 15th Century.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
For this reason, handwritten books and notes were thrown away, or sliced up and used to pad out bindings.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
The careless way in which the manuscripts were thrust into the covers shows that, ironically enough, they only survived because they were not valued at all.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
Some include just tantalizing words and phrases. Scholars are working to decipher and identify them, and work out what they can teach us.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
They survived for so long partially because they were made of parchment, which lasts far longer than paper.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
An aura of mystery surrounds them, as they are like puzzles waiting to be cracked.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
One fragment shows the early workings of a translation from Arabic into Latin, giving modern scholars an unprecedented insight into the process.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
This is a piece of Hebrew writing on parchment, probably part of a Torah scroll. It was found in the binding of a medieval book.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
Sometimes the fragments are visible through the cover, which has worn away with age.
Erik Kwakkel, Leiden University
One particularly fascinating example was a note from a 15th Century German nobleman to his servant. "Could you please get me some wild roses, but make sure to include some that are still in bud," it says.
CNN  — 

Rabbits: cute, fluffy creatures; big ears, big teeth. Harmless? Wrong.

In the medieval period they were fierce, sword-wielding Leporids, happy to take on the rest of the animal kingdom – including humans.

Rabbits riding lions, rabbits riding humans, rabbits mutilating poor hapless knights in shining armor. Who knew “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” could be so germane?

These relatives of the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog dwell not in caves but in the “bas-de-page” below the text of 14th century manuscripts, according to James Freeman, a medieval manuscripts specialist at Cambridge University Library.

Usually found in books made for the clergy, these illustrations – known as “marginalia” – were full of symbolism. Playful and subversive, they often thumbed the nose at authority figures.

There is no single meaning to the illustrations, says Freeman. There are, however, many interpretations.

Claire Ben Lakhdar, chief curator at the Bibliotheque Verdun, says the rabbits and dogs in the “Breviaire de Renaud de Bar” (1302-1304) represent courtly love between women and men.

Freeman says the rabbits found in the “Smithfield Decretals” (below) are an example of le monde renverse or le monder inverse – “the world turned upside down.” Instead of men and women hunting rabbits, humans were the target, turning on their erstwhile pursuers.

British Library
Rabbits take a human captive in a bas-de-page from the Smithfield Decretals.

“This was a part of wider medieval life,” says Freeman. “There are other rituals and celebrations where ‘boy bishops’ or ‘lords of misrule’ were put in charge for the day, and their superiors made to do humble chores.”

British Library
A rabbit hunts a greyhound in the margin of the Smithfield Decretals.

Not everyone was impressed by these comic doodles. French Cistercian monk Bernard of Clairvaux, who died in 1153, described those in the Decretals as “ridiculous monstrosities,” according to the manuscript specialist.

“Good Lord,” said the monk. “Even if the foolishness of it all occasion no shame, at least one might balk at the expense.”

After all, these books were only available to the upper crust – perhaps ironic considering marginalia’s deconstruction of hierarchy.

“It was within these liminal spaces that such ideas could be safely, even boldly explored,” says Freeman; a space where society could be critiqued and questioned whilst hiding behind allusion.

Killer bunnies: not only merciless man slayers but social warriors too. Who knew?