Fresh off signing the Treaties of Tilsit in July 1807, Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte wanted to celebrate with a grand rabbit hunt. He tasked his Chief of Staff, Alexandre Berthier, with organizing the event. Berthier eagerly arranged an extravagant outing, procuring hundreds—some sources claim as many as three thousand—rabbits for the Emperor and his military elite.
However, Berthier made one fateful blunder: instead of capturing wild, skittish woodland hares, his men purchased tame, farm-raised domestic rabbits from local peasants. On the day of the hunt, the caged quarry was placed along the perimeter of a grassy field. With high-ranking officers looking on, the cages were opened to launch the grand spectacle.
But rather than bounding away in terror, the domesticated bunnies mistook Napoleon and his entourage for farmhands delivering breakfast. Having been hand-fed by humans their entire lives, the hungry horde associated people with food. In an instant, the furry swarm pivoted and launched a full-scale charge directly at the Emperor of the French.
At first, Napoleon and his guests laughed off the bizarre sight. But as the furry tide crested, laughter turned to panic. Thousands of rabbits swarmed Napoleon's boots, darted up his trousers, and scrambled up his embroidered jacket.
Officers drew whips and sticks to beat back the aggressive assailants, but the bunnies were relentless, inadvertently dividing into two wings to flank the Emperor's party like seasoned tacticians. Overwhelmed, Napoleon beat a hasty retreat to his golden carriage. Even then, the siege did not end until several resolute rabbits were tossed out of the coach after leaping inside.
The master strategist of Europe was forced to flee the field, thoroughly vanquished by a battalion of hungry bunnies.