Sunday, 29 May 2011
The Tale of Freddie the Field Mouse
For some weeks we knew we had a little visitor in our Summer House. And I don't mean the kind of little visitor(s) that goes into the kitchen betwixt the hours of 12 and 1, gets goodies out of the fridge and leaves the Crunchy Nut Cornflake box in the middle of the kitchen table.
No. This was the rodent variety (no, no! No more comparisons with teenagers!). He had been getting bedding from many sources (including my paint and concrete stained Harlequins top!) and helping himself to chicken and rabbit food.
So yesterday "the boss" had a good sort out and emptied the Summer House, ready for me to board up a little mouse hole at the back which we assumed our little visitor was coming through for his nocturnal treats.
Towards the end of the emptying/tidying process there came a little yell from the depths of the Summer House and your hero (yes: that's me!) appeared on the scene, ready to be all, well... heroic.
The boss had located our little visitor. He had made a cosy little des res in the centre of a large roll of twine in an old fashioned shop display glass-fronted set of drawers we bought long ago in Scotland. Boadicea Bodices were the garments it was made to display. Racy stuff.
As an aside, we saw the same display drawers in an antique shop on one of the myriad of BBC shows about antiques buying and the seller wanted over £100 for it! Wowzers. You know me, dear reader, I wouldn't part with that kind of money for an item destined for a shed (albeit a poshed-up version called a Summer House).
So, picking up the roll of twine and asking my glamorous assistant (all very West End) to grab a nearby plastic container I had the little grey field mouse trapped in an easy to carry container. Calling on our youngest (knowing she would be excited at the prospect) we walked down to our local park to release the little critter.
On opening the container and tipping the twine out on its side two huge black cute eyes popped out just behind a twitching nose which couldn't have been any, well... twitchier. He sussed out the situation for about two seconds and then -- ping! He was off! He shot out so fast it was a blur, into the long overgrown grass at the edge of the park, for new adventures and to find another source of warmth and sustainance, mayhaps never to chew on a rugby top again!
Good luck Freddie.
What an adventure!