We’ve got these large pieces of heavy gauge black plastic left over from the Rory Pond fiasco that we’ve been slowly moving around the potager garden. We move it to one section, leave it there for about three weeks, and in that time the grass and weeds beneath are solarized and killed off. When we move the tarp, the ground underneath is totally bare and ready for raised beds, all without the use of herbicides and weed killers.
Today, Ken decided it was time to move one of the tarps to a new section, so we each grabbed a corner and slid the plastic over to a section of grass. As we were doing it, two things happened simultaneously. Firstly, the dogs, who always come down with us to the garden in the mornings before the animals are let out, LOST THEIR MINDS and started running around the newly revealed section of bare ground.
Secondly, Ken turns to me and says, “What is that NOISE? Do you hear it? What in the….?”
We stopped, listened, and sure enough, there it was- a series of high pitched chittering. Meanwhile, River and Levi were running around like mad dogs, nose to the ground and tails high.
“Mice!” Ken said, pointing to a mound of dried, dead grasses revealed by moving the tarp. A larger mouse ran away from the nest, was quickly caught by River, and thus shuffled loose the mortal coil. Her babies, however, too young to even have sight, could not run.
Instead, they sort of crawled along the ground until Levi had scooped them all up in his mouth and eaten them.
Most surprising out of this whole grisly scene was Rocky’s response. “Baby mice! Awww, how cute!” she said upon first seeing them. But then, after watching Levi gorge himself on said baby mice, she didn’t erupt into the hysterical tears I expected her to. Instead, she said, “Oh. And now Levi ate them all.”
Already a farm girl, that one is.
And really, considering the damage mice can do around a farm, I can’t say I’m too upset by the dogs’ snack. But there’s no way I’m letting them lick me ever again.