The Private Lives of Mice

THE PRIVATE LIVES OF MICE

Wednesday, January 31, 2007 (Napanee Beaver)

Friday, February 02, 2007 (Picton Gazette)

It was one of those winter mornings that Christmas cards are made of every year. It was the same morning that inspired the photo in last Wednesday’s Napanee Beaver by Sheri Lefebvre, taken along River Road. In the faint moonlight as I set off for my morning walk with the dog, it was obvious even at this early hour that I would need to retrieve the camera from the house the moment there was enough light, for even the slightest breeze would destroy the scene. The five-kilometre walk that I take every morning down this dead end road would not see any traffic for at least another couple of hours, except for one vehicle I meet every morning delivering a student to the bus.

Other than a cottontail rabbit that had hopped along the side of the road sometime before us, our tracks were the first that morning. There was no wildlife yet for it was too early. However, a brave great horned owl hooted energetically from a woodlot somewhere across the marsh. For them the nesting season is here despite the temperature this morning barely hovering at -19.

Suddenly, as though replaying a miniature of the movie “Tremours,” from several years back, a tunnel started to form in the snow in front of our feet along the edge of the road. Sensing that we were there, and my dog was upon it, the tunnel abruptly stopped, and the animal inside reversed to the starting point without ever breaking through the fine layer of fresh snow. Emerging under the safety of a small bush, he peered at us and disappeared into the leaf litter under a grove of ash trees along the road. .

There are lots of so-called mice running about during the winter months. This is what hawks, owls, foxes and a myriad of other creatures depend on for survival at this time of the year. Field mice, more accurately known as meadow voles, trust their burrowing skills to keep them out of sight of those who may be after them. Often it works, except when a thin layer of snow offers scant protection. We’re all familiar with the presence of these voles since we see their network of tunnels through the grass in our lawns each spring after the snow melts. They remain active through the winter, scuttling here and there, nibbling on grasses as they go, and ornamental trees when they bump into them. While some mammals are mating right now, meadow voles prefer to wait until the warmer days of April.

Finding tracks of meadow voles is not always easy due to their habit of remaining below the surface of the snow, but a set of mouse-like tracks we found later in our walk as daylight was beginning to show, were easily identified even though their owner was nowhere about. These tracks belonged to either a deer mouse or white-footed mouse as both of these fawn coloured mice foolishly travel atop the snow.

Both species probably occur here, but are so similar to most people that we tend to call them by whatever name comes to us first, although we may be incorrect, and the two names certainly aren’t interchangeable. They both share the same habitat, but the tail of the deer mouse is bicoloured, the top half being slightly darker than below. However, that’s not a feature any of us are apt to see as they scurry across the snow ahead of us. Around here, it is presumed though that all such mice are white-footed mouse, due their distribution preferences.

Fortunately for them, both species are primarily active at night, saving them from a lot of grief, except from the great horned owl that continued to hoot in the distance. Unlike the globular nests of the meadow vole we always used to find in the hay fields on the farm, both deer mice and white-footed mice construct their nests in tree hollows or nesting boxes. How many of us have looked inside our nesting boxes only to have one of these creatures dart out and leap onto our shoulder?

These cute little mice, and they are cute, make no mistake, with their two-tone paint job and oversized ears, have an interesting habit of snatching their young whenever threatened, and carrying them to safety one at a time. One other curious habit, at least of the white -footed species, is drumming on a hollow reed or dry leaf with its forepaws, producing a prolonged musical buzzing. Its meaning is unclear.

We can’t be expected to know all the secrets of these little mice, or any animal for that matter. That’s what makes the study of nature so fascinating – the discovery of the unexpected. And one day, if we are really observant, perhaps these little mice will share their secret with us.