The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 2015 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

The alarm woke me far too early. I felt like I’d only just got to sleep. I cracked open an eye lid and peeped at the clock–it was seven. I reached out for Si and he’d already gone. Poo, I crawled out of bed, I was still sore and the shower while helping, only made me cleaner. After towelling myself dry I checked myself in the mirror, everything was a bit pink and slightly swollen, so I gingerly dabbed arnica cream on various bits before donning bra and panties and then some top clothes–I opted for a soft pair of trousers in green and a pale green blouse. I pulled on a pair of thin socks and added some slip-on shoes with a low heel.

Next job was to rouse the mob and get them ready for school, after which I could finish doing my hair and a little makeup. I was teaching today, so I wanted to be there in reasonable time. If my students were looking for a repeat of yesterday, they’d be disappointed.

We waved good bye to Julie and Phoebe who left together, but their journeys were to different destinations by different transport–Phoebe was using the scooter/moped thing which she quite enjoyed as it gave her some independence, and Julie of course in her pink Smart car off to the salon.

A few minutes later, I took the girls to school and after dropping them off went on through the traffic nightmare that is rush hour Pompey. I wasn’t actually teaching until ten, but through till twelve–a good way to lose weight.

I checked through my notes then went down to the lab to see if Neal was going to help me–he was and so was my personal assistant who’d finally woken up and was stuffing herself on dried apricots. Okay, it was lowest common denominator stuff, but I was too tired to think of anything more attention holding–so for the second hour we’d do the ecology of dormeece, something I can possibly do in my sleep–we might even find out later.

Neal set up the projector and I plugged in my laptop–sorry, my new improved laptop, since the guy at the bank fixed it, it goes much better and he shoved in some more RAM, or should that be he rammed in more shove? Whichever, it’s going better.

The first hour was on the applications of ecology, so if ever any of this lot get a degree, which is questionable, they might be able to use it to find work–probably doing a paper round or stacking shelves in Tesco or Asda–or less probably as an ecologist, usually with county councils or government bodies like English Nature.

The first few started to trickle in as Neal and I sipped the tea which I’d made just before we’d finished setting up. He’d pop back in an hour with the star of the show and I’d let them get a good look at her before she went back in the cage.

I would also demonstrate the method I used for taking a mouse from the nest box and weighing it and replacing it in the box and reattaching the box to the tree or post. We had a post which stood in a weighted bottom–a bucket full of cement–to which the nest box was attached. Neal would bring it out during the short break I gave them between the two sessions. We’d also use a different dormouse to Spike, because it’s unfair that she should have to cope with all the handling, especially as she’s quite elderly now.

At two minutes past ten, I launched into my ecological applications and bored them silly. Nah, they all stayed awake and more surprisingly, so did I, or I was talking in my sleep. I tried to see if any of them had read any of the textbooks they were supposed to and invited them to show the principles of the application and how they might set up a survey or advise a client about the way the law might require them to check an area for certain animals or plants which had protected status. Seeing as most clients have no idea about checking for protected species from crested newts to bats and in some cases licences are required for things like bats and dormice, so most people can’t disturb them without risking prosecution at a thousand pounds per offence. So prosecutions are rare, cautions aren’t and many developers and landowners have not enjoyed someone like me turning up with the police to stop them disturbing bat colonies or ponds with great crested newts. Tempers can get quite frayed which is why the police are there.

So we did some role plays as well which kept them awake, then we stopped for a five minute break while Neal and I had another cuppa and I went for a wee, while he produced Spike and the nest box on the post.

I showed them some slides and stood close to them with my little angel in her cage. That was passed around the room while she ate a couple of hazelnuts–well she is a hazel dormouse. That got them all listening and wanting to join the survey team.

Ever the show-woman I showed them the procedure on film for doing a nest box check. Essentially, you cover the hole at the back with your hand, slide the roof of the box to see if there’s any nesting material, and if there is you unhitch it without moving your hand from the hole and pop it into a large clear plastic bag. Then you take the lid off the box and poke about in the nesting material and see if anything pops out. Hopefully it will be a dormouse.

I then showed them how to do it for real. Of course it’s so easy they could all do it better than I could. Oh yeah? I replaced the nest box with one which the mouse couldn’t escape through the hole because it had a gauze over it on the inside, but they didn’t know that. I picked a young woman volunteer to do that one and then we weighed it and sexed it and noted everything.

Some boy in the back row said he thought it looked too easy, so we brought in a box number three. I didn’t tell him there was no mouse in there but it was booby trapped. He strode down confidently and I invited him to show us how it was done. He peeped inside after putting his hand over the hole in the back whereupon something touched his hand and he jumped pulling his hand away. I made him cover the hole in case we lost a valuable dormouse. I cautioned him that these were boxes from a woodland and there could be anything in there and if were a wood mouse, they could bite. He said he’d cope.

Blushing he continued and unhitched the box after declaring there was a nest in the box. Then he placed the box in the bag and took the lid off, then poked about in the nesting material. Something moved and he jumped again. Blushing he went back to the task and Neal pressed the button on the remote and just as he put his hand in the box, something grabbed his fingers and he squealed, pulled his hand out, squealed again and ran off.

I’d by now placed a dormouse up my sleeve and fished in the nestbox and pulled him out. The class all went from gasping to laughing to gasping again. Neal appeared with a cage and I placed the mouse in it. No one was aware of the switch and it demonstrated my point that when you put your fingers in one you’re never quite sure what’s in there.

With that I concluded the lecture and sent them off. We’d overrun by ten minutes, but once again, they all went out buzzing. Neal checked that our escapee student was okay and once he learnt he’d missed out on handling a dormouse he was a bit miffed.

I helped Neal clear up and went off with Pippa for a sandwich, still buzzing from my performance earlier and still smirking from the prank we’d played successfully. There’s always one overconfident one who needs to learn there are risks, albeit small ones–though if you meet with a vole, a wood mouse or even something like a weasel, you could get bitten.

We had two remote apparatus one which pushed a bit of fur fabric against the hole in the back, and another which moved two small bars together almost grabbing the finger of the unfortunate guinea pig. They always jump and I take over with my concealed mouse and show them it was nothing. Works every time.