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Wood Mouse

Apodemus sylvaticus

Dear friends of the Mother Oak Network, something incredible is happening here. I’m glad I can log in to report it live. I wouldn’t know what I’d do right now without Milk -cap’s extensive underground network which quickly relays our messages. What I’m experiencing is indescribable. Perhaps other mice in our clan are going through the same thing? I wonder.

But first, some context, because after our meeting at Mother Oak’s earlier, I came home alone. I was the only one of all my brothers and cousins who hadn’t received a human guest, and I wondered why. My den, after all, is cosy and neat, and cleaner than some. Every corner is filled with stores of moss and beech seeds and their comforting smell. Feeling restless, I took a nibble at the body of a butterfly I had stashed away this morning. It has soothed me down wonderfully. So, I was totally unprepared when four Red Ants suddenly barged into my nest uninvited, hauling a beech leaf between them with one of the six minuscule human children we had seen at Mother Oak’s meeting. It was the last one to arrive and the one for whom my oldest brother, Mighty Mouse, had laid down his life.

‘Your Cousin, Upper Mouse, won’t take him, he says that one human in his den is more than enough,’ panted the eldest Ant. ‘So, it’s up to you. His name is Renzo.’ They put the leaf down. It looked like I had no choice. I had, after all, promised to support the plan. And suddenly I felt relieved. I had wanted to be part of it. I hurried out to scavenge some Bracken to make a bed, like I knew my cousin had done. The Red Ants dumped the creature onto it. He must have been tired, because he fell asleep immediately, snuffling softly and occasionally kicking his feet. I sniffed his hair and skin and circled around his bed. A wildly interesting guest, I thought. The boy is a combination of unusual scents, textures, and colours.

Well, dear Mother Oak, dear all of you in the Network, he’s still lying on that mound of green, Renzo, the little human that my cousin didn’t want to host. But since those first few minutes, something unearthly has begun here. Unbelievable. Extraordinary. You, Mother Oak, in all your majesty, you’re here with us too… you fill my tiny hole with your enormous presence! How is that possible? You, old Oak, protector of all creatures that dwell in your shadow, you are a guest in my burrow. What an honour!

I’m walking towards you but I don’t feel you. It is as if I can walk through you. The fact that I can even see you without having set a paw outside my den is impossible. But you’re here before me, large, green and centuries old. I can hear the rustle of your leaves; I can even hear how you are effortlessly soaking up your daily ration of 800 litres of water.

Around you appear all the other trees and plants that you keep alive, all packed into my burrow! The much younger oaks, the beeches and birches that thanks to your network are still strong and green; the woodland clover and ferns that are standing here perfectly straight. Everyone is beaming gratitude. Even the smallest of them, the baby oaks, maples and beeches, proudly stretch their two tiny leaves towards the distant sky. They’re ready to shoot upwards.

Oh, holy Moss and Maggots! Now the animals – or their copies – are arriving. Just like that. An hour ago, I saw you all at the welcome ceremony. Could Renzo be the source of the images? Do other mice housing the human children experience this too? Do humans possess a special organ for broadcasting their memories during sleep?

Holy Maggots, look! There I am myself! Or a perfect copy of me! This is extraordinary!

Dear Mother Oak, I know your wish is to save the planet and that you believe that it begins by enlightening the humans. You chose a special astral moment to launch your emergency plan. All the wandering stars, you told us, would be visible in the sky at once, which means that a universal cleansing is taking place. All the negative energy of the past six months will dissolve. That’s why you activated the emergency plan today. And it began by bringing six young humans into the forest where, reduced by your magic to the size of a ladybird, they will stay awhile with us.

You told us about the disturbing capacity of these little humans to project their thoughts, consciously or otherwise, into the air around them. So, it’s not as though I wasn’t warned, but hearing about it is one thing, coming face to face with it is another. I feel the need to describe it all, now, while the images fly by like lightning. I know they are mere illusions, but they seem so real. The flow of images pulsing at me banishes the soft shadows of my den. Somehow the whole scene I lived through is being repeated here.

I see Crow landing on a branch in front of me with his outstretched claws. I catch a glimpse of Slowworm keeping out of sight under the ferns. And Blackbird, Finch, Nuthatch and Great Tit, fluttering about merrily. Now the sleeping boy’s head conjures up Deer with her beautiful, dark, round eyes that can’t see very far. I watch how carefully she walks to and fro in my den, as if her body was far too big for her. She takes a few delicate steps, then pauses, registering every young nettle, bramble, fern and tree root close to her to make sure she doesn’t trample on anyone. At any other time she might have nibbled a leaf; but not there, and not then.

Despite the fact that this show cannot be real, I feel again the moment when Mother Oak began to increase the strength of the electromagnetic field between the width of her crown and her root system. Until this lunar night, anyone entering this raised zone automatically connected to her frequency and it had always been safe for everyone there. But tonight, things changed.

Now Heron comes flying into my den! He lands carefully on a low, wide-spreading branch of Mother Oak, folding his huge wings into a comfortable jacket. This, too, is coming out of the human’s head. How pleasant it would be to spend the long, dark months of winter in the company of such a little person. He would entertain me with life-sized images, free from any danger. Oh, and here comes Squirrel. She snuggles up against Mother Oak’s thickest side branch, probably the coolest place during this hot summer. Crow sits one branch higher, his jet-black tail twitching above her head. Oddly, my brothers and my three younger cousins are missing from the picture. Well, naturally! They had already left by the time this boy, the very last, arrived. Every one of them had set off home, accompanied by a human guest. Here, in the vision the boy is projecting in my nest, all of you seem unusually calm, though I well remember in what state of alarm we were. But, of course, the boy can’t know that, he didn’t see the Egyptian Goose fly over us. It was pure provocation, wasn’t it? Just before the first human had been brought by the Red Ants to Mother Oak, the Goose came barrelling by, out of a clear blue sky, honking out what should have been a secret to all but our network: ‘They’re arriving. Six in all! Six! Can you believe it? Mad Oak has done it! She’s brought six damned Big Heads into the forest to wreak havoc! We, the Warriors of Mighty Beech, are going to attack them!’

Once again, I feel the sudden fear that gripped us. We all felt it. There must be a traitor in the Network! But you, Mother Oak, you continued to radiate soothing waves across your crown and roots. You shone with love, even for the Egyptian Geese. Who are the Warriors of Mighty Beech? How do we find out? None of us have ever heard of them. Mighty Beech, yes, we know him, he is the biggest of the beeches, oaks, maples and lime trees that grow along the forest paths and who are down to their last resources in this heat. But a warrior gang? Declaring war? This is totally unexpected.

The dream images of the tiny Renzo are now accelerating and merging into one another. Yes, look here! Great Tit is sounding the alarm. An enemy is near. The tit flies up, drops fast, lightly swooping through the air as only Great Tits can. Oh, I feel again the tension of the moment. My body trembles and I clench my pointed teeth. I remember how I began to support Mother Oak to strengthen her protective field. And so did all of us. We focused all our life energy on you, Mother Oak. We completely surrendered to our task, for with your ancient roots and far-reaching networks, you are our eternal source, our mother lode. To you we owe our lusty lives. You are the one we want to serve, through thick and thin.

I would never have believed that Mother Oak’s raised energy field could falter, but we had all felt that slight wobble. Something bad was coming. Look! It’s Hawk, now flying threateningly, angrily towards me in my own den. I shudder at the sight of his scaly yellow feet and the razor-sharp, steely talons that I know have already killed many a family member. Panic! My den fills with the twittering, squawking and crying of all of you who are present in the little human’s head. Hawk comes so close that all I can see is the wrinkled skin around his crooked claws. What horror! Just when I think I’m going to be devoured, the images all disappear. I’m startled by the cry of the little human waking up.

‘Help! Help!’ he shouts from his bed of ferns, ‘What a bloody mess!’ Then he turns over and falls asleep again. Maybe Hawk belongs to the Warriors of Mighty Beech? It makes sense. What is clear to me now is that the bird was after this Renzo, who was pushed violently aside just in time by my oldest brother, that most noble wood mouse, who sacrificed his life for the little human he should have taken home. I remember looking up, horrified, at the stubby body of my brother in the bird’s implacable grasp as they rose in the air, his legs dangling from Hawk’s talons in a forlorn final salute. I am still in shock. The loss of a family member distresses me greatly. He gave his life for the boy he had planned to look after. I myself had not wanted to receive a human being, but fate has decreed otherwise. I am at your service, Mother Oak, and at the service of your plan.