The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2756 by Angharad Copyright© 2015 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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I collected the four mouseketeers and sent them off to change and do any homework that they hadn’t finished. It was Friday and the night before Wales had beaten Fiji in the world cup, which Simon had watched in his office so was late coming home.

The qualifiers from that group now depended on how the England Australia match went on the Saturday. Also, Scotland were playing South Africa and that would have implications for how much I saw of Simon that afternoon or evening. I don’t mind him watching the rugby because I know he used to play the game but I didn’t get much opportunity to watch the cycling the week before—but then I’m a woman and we’re expected to give up our free time to the other family members.

I wondered how the case with the landowners knocking down the trees in the wood had gone, had they obeyed the order from Natural England or not. I called Helen and she told me she was closely monitoring things but so far they’d behaved themselves. I told her if she wanted me to put up some tubes in the wood, we’d have to move quickly because the dormouse season would only have about another month before the days shortened and cooled and our furry friends would be looking to sleep off the winter in their hibernacula. That sounds more sophisticated than it is, basically they use a hole in the ground and build a nest of grass, leaves and honeysuckle bark then pull their tails up over their noses and zonk for five or six months. During that time they’re subject to being discovered by predators—anything from rats or even mice and bigger like badgers and foxes. They’re also at the mercy of the weather. If it goes mild and then cold, they could come out of hibernation which uses up their fat reserves only to need to go to sleep again, from which sadly, they might not awake unless they had extra fat reserves. If it’s too wet, they could drown or develop fungal diseases. Life sure ain’t easy for dormice; but if your main food source disappears for half the year, you have to do the same or stock up reserves which could result in you forgetting just where they are or someone else finding them.

I suppose life is a constant battle in the wild, it’s bad enough for us in developed countries where no one should go hungry and where we have a good life expectancy, but in the red tooth and claw worlds, life can be short and brutal with top of the food chain predators, fox and badger only having to fear man and his motor vehicles or human hunters. If they reintroduce lynx and wolves or even bears, things could become very different but that’s some time away and I think an unwise policy. To start with, large predators will be tempted to take sheep or their lambs and farmers will then quite rightly feel aggrieved.

Otters were hunted to small populations from which they have now recovered to start to recolonise rivers which won’t have seen them for forty or fifty years, which is bad news for mink. Otters kill or drive out mink as they’re active competitors for similar food items.

If only we could expand the range of pine martens because that would reduce the number of grey squirrels and make more food stuffs like nuts and acorns available to the smaller rodents such as dormice.

Helen decided we didn’t have time to do the dormouse survey before the spring so the landowner will have to think again about his solar panels. I was of firm belief that the wood had dormice as well as other inhabitants but would need to wait for the warmer weather to prove it beyond any doubt.

I was saddened by the number of flattened hedgehogs and bashed badgers or foxes I was seeing on the roads—looks like road kills are increasing, round us, at any rate. And I wonder if there are any pheasants left to shoot as significant numbers get squished on the road alongside the farms that hold the shoots. Personally, I think breeding things for lunatics with guns to shoot is diabolical but then no one listens to me—I’m only a stupid woman, what do I know?

Saturday was a lovely day though slightly cooler than the previous couple of days. I got stuck into my chores and with Tom inviting David to join the rugby watchers I got lumbered with helping him with dinner. It wasn’t exactly onerous but extra work I didn’t need.

The groans in the late afternoon/early evening tended to show that Scotland had succumbed to South Africa. While as always I secretly root for Wales, I wasn’t going to watch the games of the other nations, I had too much to do.

So while one bank director sat and watched two football games, another was stuck writing a report on the progress of the woodland study centre named after Billie, which was punctuated by several other little things I had to do, like ironing and cooking as David appeared to have forgotten he hadn’t finished the food preparation before he jumped ship to the rugby camp.

It appeared that Australia got the measure of England and beat them comprehensively, especially in the second half which meant Wales and Australia would be playing to see who topped the group, the losers would face South Africa in the quarter finals. England had been eliminated, the first host nation not to reach the quarter finals since the competition began. The margin of the win by Australia also meant it was their biggest ever win against England at Twickenham.

I learned all this that evening. David was devastated being the only English adult in the rugby watchers group. Danni was also similarly affected. As for me, I had that report to finish and children to fed then get to bed. It must be really hard work being a man and having to deal with the highs and lows of rugby world cups compared to my easy one—I don’t think.

Oh well, back to the grind...