Subtitle: What we can learn about courage from a mouse
Here at Heather Cottage the Fearnan-Smiths have recently been dealing with a surfeit of rodents – a few field voles but mostly mice. It had to be sorted. The bird food has been removed to the further reaches of the garden and the non-lethal mouse trap has been deployed. The early victims were deposited on the loch-shore where I discovered that mice are surprisingly adept swimmers! But methinks they are returning. The last few have been taken further afield - deported. One, halfway to Killin, and another two to Letterellan Gate. But yesterday's unfortunate was taken to the far side.
Yes, the far side. Not The Far Side, the Larson world of monsters, weirdos and nerds, but Ardtalnaig (although on consideration...), the start point of a day's walking. The wee timorous beastie was invited along. Not for the walk, you understand, but for a pleasant drive and to find a new home in a new location. As he was released he turned and squeaked 'Where am I? I don't like it here'
'You're on the other side now. Go and explore. You'll be here for a long time.'
With that he scuttled off into the grass.
Upon my return, eight hours later, he was sat by the car.
'Please take me back to Fearnan' he pleaded. 'Back to my home, my family, my friends.'
'No, little mouse' I sternly replied. 'You're here to stay. Go and make a new home and find new friends. You're not welcome. Don't try swimming, and don't pay the ferryman!'
With that I left, as he wiped a tear from his eye with a tiny wee 'kerchief. A 'pawkerchief' perhaps.
Ah, the fun that can be had with anthropomorphism! What can be learned about courage from a mouse? Dunno. Mice do what mice are programmed to do. Is it called instinct?
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