Flash forward to this afternoon when I decided it was high time to take the straw off my strawberry plants. I was scooping up big handfuls of straw when all of sudden I realized that underneath my last handful was a soft bed of fur with some little critters moving around in it. Turns out it was a nest with six little mice (almost big enough to be on their own, with no sign of mama mouse). Cute. Yes?
I called to Ed who came down with a bucket and shovel and suggested that he could simply smash them! Afterall, we have traps set in the garage, basement, and cottage and have had our share of mice-eaten car wires. "No. No," I screamed. "I'll take them away from the house and get them relocated in a nice bunch of hay in the back field." Which I did, and they seemed happy enough, although I'm sure their mama is distraught.
I think I have fond thoughts for mice because of three memories from my childhood:
1) When I was in first grade I had imaginary mice that lived in my pockets. Their names were Eencie and Meencie. They were great company.
2) My Uncle Bud gave me a little stuffed mouse that seemed to have real fur and held a kernal of corn in it's paws. I loved it dearly.
3) My favorite book of poems was "The World of Christopher Robin" and in Missing, Christopher Robin lost his dear little brown mouse. I felt so bad for him.
Has anybody seen my mouse?
I opened his box for half a minute,
Just to make sure he was really in it,
And while I was looking, he jumped outside!
I tried to catch him, I tried, I tried....
I think he's somewhere about the house.
Has anyone seen my mouse?
Uncle John, have you seen my mouse?
Just a small sort of mouse, a dear little brown one,
He came from the country, he wasn't a town one,
So he'll feel all lonely in a London street;
Why, what could he possibly find to eat?
He must be somewhere. I'll ask Aunt Rose:
Have you seen a mouse with a woffelly nose?
He's just got out...
Hasn't anybody seen my mouse?
-- A. A. Milne