Mouse Tales

When I was growing up the children of our household belonged to the "Clean Plate Club." One did not get excused from the table until one's plate had been cleaned. We had no pets begging below the table (still don't), so we were responsible for cleaning our own plates ourselves, thank you very much.

I think the goats have their own version of this club, for nary a speck of grain is left behind when they are done. All the other animals have different standards. For example, the goats and chickens clean up behind the horses. (I mean they clean up the horses's feed pans, although the chickens do also clean up behind the horses.) The dogs can return to their feed at any time, as can the cats; self-feeding works fine for them--unless hungry geese stop by to chow down. And the alpacas do finish their feed, but they do not bother to clean their feed bins.

Some time ago when I went in to add feed to Spencer and Greg's feed tub I found two dead mice left there by our recently-acquired cats. I praised the cats lavishly and remembered to thank them again as I served their evening goat milk. Apparently they took note of the extra attention.

If the light is dim by the time I feed in the inside stalls, I'll reach in a hand to explore. In the three boys' stall (Hamilton, Romeo, and Shaun), I clean out any hay that's fallen into the bin. In the mama pacas' s stall, I used to do the same; however, since switching them to a self-feeding regimen (like the dogs and cats enjoy), I simply gauge the level and types of feed left in their bin before mixing an addition. (The mama pacas receive a blend of three grains/pellets, plus some alfalfa shreds to enhance their milk production.) Ever since finding those two mice, I reach into the young boys' feed tub to make sure no more mice are lying there. Tonight I felt a suspiciously corpse-like shape beneath my glove and refrained from adding grain immediately.

Backtracking to the corridor, I flipped on the light switch that enables me too see into the stall corners. A spot in the floor was squishy due to the recent torrential rains, so I checked the condition of the corridor ('twas acceptably dry) before continuing. When I stepped up to the feed bin, I received a surprise. The one or two mouse bodies I expected to see had multiplied eightfold. (The sight was so exceptional that I remembered to pull out the camera.) I had to gather sixteen mouse bodies [count 'em if you wish, photo above] before wiping the grain remnants out of the feed tub. Sixteen! (Think, Dear Reader, of the little presents cats have left for you over the years. Would the cats in your life ever have lavished such a generous gift on you? I doubt it.)

Leaving the stall with a glove-palm-full of little mice, I began singing the cats' praises immediately. "Wow, guys! I've never had anyone gift me with sixteen mice! Thank you so much, Ms. Annabelle and Mr. Barney. You did a fine job. That's right, I've never, ever--in my entire life--ever had someone present me with sixteen mice. You guys are incredible!" (Yes I babble when talking to the animals. They've never asked me to be quiet, so I figure it's okay with them.) Before I reached the trash bag by the barn door, I had two proud felines twining around my ankles.

As we talked I acknowledged that I had failed to milk the night before because of the rain--eventually I'll have the milking area under cover--and told them that the lack of milk was in no way a reflection of my appreciation of them. I promised to begin milking shortly and told them that they did not need to overcompensate by catching sixteen mice just because they'd been deprived of their warm treat the prior evening. I also admitted that I would be milking only every other day now, and that in a couple of weeks we'd stop milking entirely so that Marcie can build her strength for the kid or kids she's carrying.

Needless to say, both Annabelle and Barney were present and accounted for come milking time that evening. They received additional praises with their milk and appeared to be satisfied. These cats are tremendous hunters, and very generous with presents, too! We are so glad they moved here to P&CW Farm, and that my mother never had a chance to teach them about any clean plate club.

Thanks, Barney and Annabelle!