The conqueror of Europe was routed, humiliated, and forced to flee — not by a rival army, but by a horde of hungry rabbits.
In July 1807, Napoleon Bonaparte was at the height of his power, fresh off the Treaties of Tilsit that ended his victorious war against Russia and Prussia. To celebrate, his chief of staff Alexandre Berthier organized a festive rabbit hunt — a perfectly imperial way to mark the occasion. No one could have predicted how badly it would go.
Berthier arranged for hundreds — possibly as many as 3,000 — rabbits to be released into an open field for the Emperor and his retinue to hunt. There was just one catastrophic problem: the man tasked with procuring the rabbits bought tame, hutch-raised rabbits from local farmers rather than trapping wild hares.
When the cages were opened, instead of bolting in fear as wild rabbits would, the domesticated animals did the opposite — they charged straight toward Napoleon and his men. Hungry and accustomed to being fed by humans, the rabbits saw the assembled crowd not as predators, but as a gigantic, life-giving source of food.
What began as mild amusement quickly turned to alarm. The swarm of rabbits divided into flanking columns — unintentionally mimicking military tactics — surrounding Napoleon on both sides. Soldiers beat at the animals with sticks and riding crops, but the rabbits were utterly undeterred.
Napoleon himself was overwhelmed. According to General Thiébault, who witnessed the scene, the rabbits 'forced the conqueror of conquerors, fairly exhausted, to retreat and leave them in possession of the field.' The man who had crushed Austria, Prussia, and Russia could not fight off a mob of hungry bunnies.
Napoleon retreated to his imperial carriage, hoping to escape — but the rabbits followed, swarming up the sides and even leaping inside. The carriage had to roll away at speed before the fuzzy siege could finally be broken. It remains one of the most absurd and undignified episodes in the life of any world conqueror.
The incident has become a beloved historical curiosity precisely because of the contrast it presents: the supreme military genius of the age, surrounded by elite soldiers and generals, bested by animals that had no idea they were doing anything remarkable. It is a rare reminder that history is sometimes genuinely, wonderfully ridiculous.