Our Distant and Day Long Rambles
Beneath the flailed clippings of a hawthorn hedge is the home of Fidget and her little friend Piccolo. This is the place where Bob and his trusty spaniel Blue would frequent every morning, a little lane which winds like loose string baffling your sense of direction. Here in the hedgerow is the place where a mouse appeared one day and sat washing and grooming herself paying no attention at all to Bob and little Blue. Later as Bob arrived home he tells his granddaughter Grace what he had seen. “I’ll be coming with you tomorrow,” she said.
The next day they set off down the lane and there to Bob’s amazement sat little Fidget licking her paws and grooming and scratching behind her ears. She carried on regardless Gracie was spellbound. “Now I know why she’s called Fidget Pappy, she’s never still.” Then suddenly Grace saw a blur of movement and a tiny mouse breaks cover. “Look” she called out. The tiny mouse squeaked and came to join Fidget. “Oh Pappy, he’s lovely what’s his name?” “I haven’t thought of one yet Grace.” “Why don’t we call him Piccolo Pappy, he is very small?” “What a wonderful name for a tiny squeaky mouse Grace.” “But why are they so friendly Pappy?” “Well Grace, can you see the tooth marks in the tree-guards which protect the newly planted trees from the rabbits. Those marks are made by the mice, they gnaw at the plastic to extract the vital oils from them, this helps them to stay alive during the harsh winter, but only mice and rats are able to do this.” “So that’s why, because they are very hungry.” “Yes Grace, now inside my pocket are some peanuts and I believe they may come a little closer to take these tasty treats, and sure enough Fidget approached followed quickly by Piccolo who grabbed a nut then suddenly scampered down into his burrow. Fidget however, just sat there on her hind legs with a peanut in her forepaws munching away. Grace stood rooted to the spot and couldn’t believe what she had just witnessed.
“Oh Pappy how did you know about the little mice” “Well Grace, I just look for the signs, the holes beneath the hedge, the tooth marks in the plastic, it’s all there if you know what to look for. We should always walk softly to avoid our foot-falls scaring the animals away, that way you can observe them at close quarters.
As they ambled down the lane and made their way to the brook a robin follows close by fluting his cheerful song which is hard to fake. In the water below the dark green weeds were bending, and swaying silently by the slow glide of the water. A drake Mallard came sailing by with its saucy curled tail followed closely by his tabby mate. “Look Grace, can you see the sandy soil in the brook, this is called alluvium soil and it’s what Nanna uses to grow her spring onions.” “Now, can you see those tiny foot prints in the soil; they’ve been made by a water vole, they forage for leaves and green shoots to store in their galleries, for they are vegetarians. Look at the hole in the bank, that’s the entrance to his home and inside is quite an ambitious affair with many tunnels branching in all directions, these are galleries.” “The mole has galleries too, and umptitumps,” said Grace, they are the mounds of earth he has removed to make his galleries.” “That’s right Grace, this is called maiden soil, a soil that nanna uses to grow seeds and take cuttings for her garden.”
Suddenly something stirs from behind, a whisper of a movement, “There he is,” said Grace, “Isn’t he big, he’s much bigger then Fidget and Piccolo.” “Yes Grace, he’s a lovely furry creature, reddish brown in colour and larger than the female.” “He’s very friendly isn’t he?” said Grace. “Well, maybe not. You have to be very quiet and still so as not to disturb him and as he’s rather short-sighted he may well approach close by.” “But what is his name Pappy?” “As he lives under the weeping willow tree, we’ll call him ‘Willow’, what do you think Grace?” “I Love it Pappy, do they live in every brook?” “No Grace, but if the water is clean and healthy and you can see the lichens fastened to the stones then there’s a chance of seeing a water vole nibbling sweet roots on the bank or the lovely sight of one moving with the stream.” As they stood and watched the little fellow, Grace said goodbye before he was lost to sight, for Willow had the desire to tread once more the tracks of his ancestors.
Image courtesy of Duncan Prescott
