—Field-Mice
in Ardgour—How exterminated—A Singing Mouse—Fanners' Mistakes—Mackenzie
the Bird-Catcher.
After rather
more than six consecutive weeks of weather so hot and dry and parching
[May 1876], that we were all rapidly becoming hide-bound, brown-skinned,
and sapless as so many Egyptian mummies, the rain came at last; came,
too, not deluge-wise, and with a splash and a roar as is generally the
case after such long-continued droughts, but calmly and softly as falls
the dew of sleep on infant eyelids, and without a breath of accompanying
wind. The earth, long agape with thirst, drank it in greedily, and
vegetable and animal life alike rejoiced in the grateful quiet as well
as in the copiousness of the blessed rainfall. You should have heard
how, when the first drop began to fall, our wild-birds welcomed it. All
at once, in wood, and copse, and hedgerow, they burst out into loud and
gladsome song; nor did they cease when the rainfall was heaviest, as
they usually do, but kept it up far into the night, the merle and
song-thrush now and again breaking out afresh as if they couldn't
sufficiently express their joy, even after we had retired to rest, and
well pleased lay listening to the music of the raindrops as they fell
plashing and pattering from the eaves. Even our least accomplished
songsters took their share in this concert, and if they did not, simply
because they c6uld not, sing as well as their more gifted companions,
they made at least, as the Ancient
Mariner has
it, a pleasant "jargoning," therein, dear reader, teaching us all this
lesson, that if our gifts prevent us from playing any great or prominent
part in the orchestra of life, we are yet all the same to perform the
parts assigned us as hest we may, and always cheerily and with a will.
Next morning again was calm and mild and beautiful as a summer morning
could be, while the country already looked so fresh and green and lovely
that one could hardly believe that such a marvellous change had taken
place in the course of a single night; so potent, in such circumstances,
is the kindly touch of the Rain King's-magic wand.
The plague of mice in Upper Teviotdale is a very serious
matter indeed, and the most energetic steps should at once be taken in
order to check and, if possible, stamp out the evil. These little
rodents multiply with incredible rapidity, and if they are to be fought a
Voutrance and
conquered, the sooner the campaign is opened, and the more vigorously it
is conducted, the easier and speedier will be the victory. The
short-tailed field-mouse is fortunately a rare animal in the Highlands,
though we have occasionally met with it in the districts of Lome,
Lochaber, and Badenoch. "We have also seen it on the lands of Drumfin,
near Tobermory, in the island of Mull. Once seen, it is easily
recognised again. Its colour, instead of being of the ordinary "mouse"
shade of grey or brown, is red, or reddish ; its head is more bulletlike
and rounder, and its snout blunter than in any of its congeners ; and
its tail ends abruptly, giving that appendage adocked and
stumpy look, as if by accident or design one-third of its proper length
had been cut off in early life; and hence its common designation of
short-tailed field-mouse. Every one who has tried to capture a common
domestic mouse with the bare hand, knows to his cost how quickly and
sharply it can bite; but the little field-mouse never once attempts to
bite the hand that holds it. If pounced upon while running about in the
rough bent grass in which it usually shelters, it no sooner feels itself
fairly enclosed in your hand than it seems to become paralysed through
sheer excess of terror, and you may handle it for a time and turn it
about in all directions as if it were a stuffed specimen, without its
once offering to escape or defend itself in any way. If, however, you
let it slip from your hand to the ground, it is at once off and away,
and, search for it as you may, you are never likely to see it again. For
its size the Arvicola
agrestis is
a very powerful little animal, particularly strong in the neck,
shoulder, and fore-arm, a provision whereby it is enabled to dig and
burrow its way underground when necessary, with all the ease and
rapidity almost of the mole itself. It is very fond of water, which it
drinks often and greedily, and hence it is that it is never found at any
great distance from a plentiful supply of its favourite beverage. One
that a lady friend of ours kept for some months in a cage, drank, more
or less, she assures us, during every half-hour of the day, and if its
supply at any time happened to fail by any neglect or oversight of its
mistress, the thirsty little toper squeaked querulously and nibbled
angrily at the bars and wood-work of its cage until its water-dish was
replenished. When it had drank enough, it frequently stepped into the
dish, and frisked about in such a manner as to wet its breast and lower
parts of its body thoroughly, when it would retire to a corner of its
cage in which was a little raised platform, and, sitting up on its
quarters, squirrel-wise, rub and cleanse its head and face with both
paws in a very comical manner. It was fed on succulent grasses and
lettuce leaves and endive from the garden, of which latter it was very
fond. It also ate bread steeped in milk, and apples, both raw and
boiled. It finally met the fate of most cage pets ; the cat got at it
and killed it. We have only heard of one instance in which the Arvicola became
so numerous in the West Highlands as to become a pest that was only got
rid of with great trouble and no little expense. This was on the estate
of Ardgour, in our own parish.
About seventy years ago, the late Colonel Maclean,
grandfather of the present proprietor, planted the greater part of the
woods that now make the place so beautiful—at this moment one of the
loveliest spots iji all the Highlands. Shortly after the young trees
were planted, the field-mouse made its appearance, and in a few months
so rapidly increased its numbers, that they were on all hands declared a
nuisance that must be got rid of at any cost. Their favourite food in
this instance seemed to be the tender rootlets and bark of the smaller
trees, thousands of which straightway shrivelled up and died away owing
to the little rodent's unkindly attentions. Colonel Maclean, who was
eminently a man of action, vowed that such a state of things was beyond
all bearing, and must be put a stop to at all hazards. With a host of
willing workers, he straightway set about what for a time appeared a
hopeless task, employing every conceivable means that wit or ingenuity
could devise in order to check, and if possible stamp out the mouse
plague. Having heard of a plan adopted under similar circumstances in
the Dean and New Forests in England, holes and trenches were dug in all
directions, and pitfalls ingeniously constructed, in which very soon
scores of the marauders were caught and killed every morning. The cats
in every house in the hamlet, purposely kept for the time on short
commons at home, were locked out at night and allowed to cater for
themselves ; and they fell upon the rodents tooth and nail, doing such
execution that they soon became sleek and fat as cats were never known
in Ardgour before or since. At convenient spots large fires were
kindled, on which cauldrons of water were boiled, kettles of which, as
hot as hot could be, were poured into such burrows as showed signs of
habitation, with a view to scalding the inmates to death. This was
generally done in the early morning, to make sure of finding the enemy
at home, for the field-mouse, like most of the rodents, is mainly a
nocturnal feeder. The keepers had orders for the time to cease annoying
vermin—so-called—of any kind, the result being that in a short time
stoats, weasels, ravens, grey crows, hawks, and owls abounded, and
these, you may believe, did yeoman service in the campaign; they were
the cavalry that swept off the scattered fugitives. By such active
measures the enemy was exterminated in a single season, and never again,
so far as we know, showed face on Loch-Linnhe-side. It was Colonel
Maclean's opinion that the mice were imported; that the first pair, or
more, perhaps, were brought from the south in the straw and moss and
matting in which the roots of the more valuable and delicate plants and
trees were packed. From the above our Teviotdale friends may perhaps
gather some wrinkles that may be of use to them in their efforts to
relieve themselves from their field-mouse invasion.
And writing of the field-mouse reminds us that amongst
our own domestic mice there is at present what is generally, if somewhat
erroneously, called a "singing mouse." About a fortnight ago it
attracted the attention of a young lady, who heard it at midnight, and
thought at the time it was the twittering of some bird at her bedroom
window. It was afterwards heard by others, and finally by ourselves, as
we sat up late one night writing. That it was not a bird we were
certain, and guessing the truth—for years ago we had become acquainted
with the notes—we watched and waited until the " jargoning" seemed to
proceed from a closed press immediately behind our chair, which we
gently opened, and had a glimpse of the performer, who vanished, of
course, but soon again began its voluntary, or involuntary rather,
behind the wainscoting in another corner of the room. It was, in short,
a "singing mouse;" an involuntary music, however, with which the poor
mouse would gladly dispense if it could. Birds, as we know, are
sometimes incited to song by sheer rivalry and rage; sometimes by
poignant sorrow for the loss of a mate, or the despoliation of a nest of
its treasure of eggs or callow young; but as a rule a bird sings from
pure joyousness of heart and exhilaration of spirits. When a mouse
"sings" it is owing to a laryngeal disease, a sort of fungoid, growth in
the throat, which obstructs the breathing, causing the animal to emit
the notes which have been foolishly called " singing," and which, the
clearer and more bird-like they become, only in truth indicate the more
advanced stages of a malady which invariably ends in death. Our
attention was first directed to this matter by a distinguished
comparative anatomist, the late Professor John Reid of St. Andrews,
whose curiosity as a naturalist was unbounded, only equalled by the
untiring patience and care and caution with which, step by step, he
wrought out his conclusions. It is difficult to describe the " singing "
of a mouse thus affected to those who have not heard it for themselves.
It may be said to be in the main a half-whistle half-wheeze, now and
again interrupted by some rapid clicking notes of a somewhat metallic
ring, as if a small bit of stick was being smartly and rapidly, but very
lightly, struck on the very extremity of the treble string of a guitar
or violin. Our " singing mouse," in whom, poor thing, we were all much
interested, has not been heard for a night or two; it has probably gone
the way all mice, as well as men, must go when respiration becomes
impossible.
An amusing paragraph is at present going the round of the
papers about a farmer who, having ordered a hogshead of nitrate of soda
for agricultural purposes, got hold somehow of a hogshead of sugar
instead, which latter, in ignorance of its quality, he sowed broadcast
over his land. Now, at length aware of the mistake, he is said to be
waiting and watching with much curiosity as to how the saccharine
crystals turn out as fertilisers. The story, which may be true enough,
reminds us of an amusing mistake of. a somewhat similar nature into
which one of the crofters in our neighbourhood very innocently fell some
years ago. He had attended the Fort-William June market, and amongst
other things brought home with him, on his return in the evening, two
small parcels, one containing one pound of turnip seed, the other the
same quantity red clover seed. Next morning he was up bright and early,
and as an exercise that might perhaps help to drive away a headache, not
uncommon on such occasions, he resolved, the day being favourable, to
sow his turnip and clover seeds. He commenced, and, very unwittingly you
may believe, sowed the turnip seed broadcast among the barley braird,
and the red clover seed in the drills prepared for the turnips ! The
blunder was only discovered several days afterwards, when the seeds
began to sprout after their kind, and matters were rectified as the case
best allowed; but poor Donald never heard the last of the joke, which,
when followed beyond certain limits, used to make him exceedingly angry.
Mackenzie the bird-catcher, facile
princeps the
king and head of his order, called upon us to-day, and made us a present
of the bonniest little redpole we ever set eyes upon. Its colouring is
exquisitely beautiful, differing from the usual plumage of the species
in having several little snow-white spots irregularly sprinkled over the
coverts of either wing, and its neck and breast of a mingled shade of
pink and crimson of exceeding richness, that makes it far and away the
handsomest bird of the order we ever saw. At first we took it for a
foreign bird, or a bird that had been artificially painted in order to
deceive us, and it was only on handling and thoroughly examining him
that we became convinced that the bird was a genuine, though curiously
coloured, specimen of its species, and that we had it before us just as
it was captured some days ago in Glentarbet, near Strontian. Of all our
cage-birds, the redpole (Fringalla
Unaria, Linn.)
is perhaps the soonest reconciled to loss of liberty and prolonged
captivity. Our little pet, whose cage hangs almost within arm's length
of us as we write, seems perfectly happy, and is already singing with
all his might, a goldfinch in another cage "beside him busily scolding
him all the time for having the impudence to sing so well, or sing at
all, in interruption of his own louder and clearer notes. Cage-birds
properly treated are a great amusement, and, if you pay them due
attention, evince in a very short time a degree of intelligence so
remarkable that you only wonder, philosophising craniologically, how so
much of it can find lodging-room within their little heads.
Mackenzie is commissioned to go to Norway and Sweden this
summer in search of a lot of crossbills, grossbeaks, and other birds,
for a wealthy gentleman in the south, who is a great bird-fancier. Let
him only once get to their habitat, and Mackenzie is just the man to lay
salt on the tail of any bird that flies.