COMMENTS & CURIOSITIES:The great Easter mysteries

Are you there? I’m not. I’m on the road again in a faraway place, way to the right of where you are. I’ll give you a hint. It’s the only place in the world where “earl” is pronounced “oil” and “oil” is pronounced “earl.” But wherever you are, the important thing to remember is that today is Easter.

We’ve done the history of Easter before — where the bunnies, the eggs, the chicks and the baskets come from, why people insist on putting raisin sauce on the ham even though no one likes it, etc.

But because it is such an important holiday, I thought we should look into the mysteries of Easter this year, specifically, are Peter Rabbit and Peter Cottontail the same bunny? And what are those giant stone heads on Easter Island? In fact, why is it called Easter Island? All important questions, I think.

Let’s start with the giant heads.

You’ve seen them a thousand times — huge, stone-carved heads and figures, jutting out of the ground on a desolate, wind-swept island in the South Pacific. If you were ever a young person of the male variety, you probably drifted off to sleep now and then reading the books of Norwegian explorer Thor Heyerdahl — “Kon Tiki” and “Aku-Aku: The Secret of Easter Island.” Exotic places, drama on the high seas, etc., etc.

So why is it called Easter Island? Because the first European visitor was a Dutch admiral named Jacob Roggeveen who showed up on Easter Sunday in 1722 and said, “Holy gouda, look at the size of those heads,” or something to that effect. Admiral Jake dubbed his “discovery” Easter Island, not overly concerned that the place had been inhabited since at least 1000 AD. Easter Island belongs to Chile, and if you’ve ever wondered where the middle of nowhere is, this is it — 2,200 miles west of Chile and 1,300 miles east of Pitcairn Island, as if that helps.

The real name of the island is Rapa Nui, which means, “Please, God, get me out of here.” No it doesn’t. I made that up.

Rapa Nui is both what the indigenous people who lived there were called and what they called their island home. Estimates of when they got there range from 500 to 1000 AD, but as with any inhabited island, the real mystery is this: Where did they come from? They could only have come from two places, Polynesia or South America, and most anthropologists put their money on Polynesia.

The giant, stern-looking icons carved from volcanic rock are obviously religious icons, and some researchers believe that the statues themselves might have led to the downfall of the Rapa Nui. There weren’t many resources on the island to begin with, and the Rapa Nui may have used them all up to transport the giant statues to where they stand today — roughly 900 of them around the island. By the time Admiral Jake and company arrived, in 1722, there was hardly a tree left standing because they all had been used to build carriers and tracks to transport the big heads to the hillsides.

There is an important lesson in that for all of us: If you’re going to carve 900 giant heads from volcanic rock and put them all over your island, don’t use all the wood — which brings us, obviously, to Peter Rabbit and Peter Cottontail.

Are they the same person, or bunny, or not? They are not, which you already know if you are a Beatrix Potter fan.

Long before she became a successful creator of children’s books, Potter wrote a short story to help cheer up a friend’s 5-year old son who was seriously ill. It was a story about the adventures of four brother and sister rabbits: Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail and Peter. Note that there is no “Peter Cottontail,” just Cottontail.

Years later, Potter expanded the story and made the four floppy-eared siblings the subject of a number of books, with Peter Rabbit as the central character. Peter was a handful and always going places and doing things he wasn’t supposed to, like sneaking into Mr. McGregor’s garden, but he just couldn’t help it. He loved carrots more than his own life and couldn’t stand being apart from them, even if it meant risking the wrath of Mr. McGregor.

Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail were good bunnies, never in trouble but hopelessly dull. There is very little to say about them.

So imagine Peter’s surprise when, 50 years later, Cottontail becomes a major player because someone writes a profoundly annoying song, “Here Comes Peter Cottontail,” which isn’t even his brother’s proper name. After an animated “Peter Cottontail” special in 1971, kids in Sri Lanka could sing all three verses of “Peter Cottontail,” but Peter Rabbit? Never heard of him, all of which was a bitter carrot for Peter Rabbit to swallow, since he is, like, totally more important than Flopsy, Mopsy and Peter C. combined.

You work like a dog, so to speak, do all the things a rabbit is supposed to do, you make a name for yourself, and 50 years later, someone writes a sappy song called “Here Comes Peter Cottontail” and bam, you’re nobody, nothing, a bunny without a country, a man without a hutch, one of those. It’s like you never existed, which, come to think of it, you never did. Still, it is so unfair.

It may not be the happiest Easter story you’ve ever heard, but at least now you know the truth about Peter Rabbit, Cottontail and giant volcanic heads on Rapa Nui. We never got to Flopsy and Mopsy, but frankly there is very little to report there.

I gotta go.