The Field Mouse
Upon a crisp and silent morning, early in the month of June, I found a tiny field mouse on the plot. It hung around all afternoon. I first spotted him dancing amongst my Foxgloves but later he settled on the brick steps that I have formed around my makeshift frog pond. He sat and drank from the pond on more than one occasion and would hop up and down the bricks seemingly quite content in my presence. I got on with my work and he his; quite in harmony. He would allow me quite close to him, I could get as near as 30cm before he would turn his back and I would retreat to allow him his space. He had been quite the companion to me that afternoon and I was excited as I packed away my tools to see if he would still be there when I returned the next day.
That same evening my little mouse lay almost untarnished but unmistakably lifeless on the mat outside my front door. My tiny Jack Russell was delighted to have brought me home a present. It was tragic. My little puppy wagging her tail beaming up at me as my eyes glazed over with a tear. I patted her on the head and said good girl as she trotted proudly through the front door into the house.
I’m firmly reminded of the circle of life.
I tear a few leaves from a nearby bush, the leaves are those huge flat ones. I wrap the small mouse up into the leaves and take it over the field and lay him down there. No doubt some hungry fox who needs to feed her cubs will be along shortly and he will go back into this big crazy wheeled cycle we named Life.