The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1149 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“Mummy, where do dormice live?” asked Livvie–she obviously didn’t remember seeing the film I made.

“They are so cute,” sighed Phoebe, “Where do they live, apart from university departments–fairy castles?”

“Don’t be silly,” scolded Trish, “they live in woodlands, don’t they, Mummy?”

“Mostly, yes, but they’re nocturnal so you won’t see them, just signs of them.” I added, trying not to make it sound as if I was narrating a documentary.

“Can we go and see some?” asked Phoebe.

“We can’t go and see any more dormice because they’re too close to hibernating now, and they need to save all the energy they can without our disturbing them. I could show you a woodland where there are some but all we can do is look for signs that they’ve been there.”

“Can we do that?” asked Phoebe.

“It’s just acorns and hazel nuts they’ve eaten.”

“There’s a special way they eat them?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Trish, “they use nut crackers.”

“Do they?” said Phoebe aghast.

“Yes,” said Trish, “they put them on a flat stone and bang them with another stone.”

“Gosh,” said Phoebe, “they don’t look big enough to do that; that’s really clever.”

“You are a fibber, Trish Watts, you know jolly well they eat through the top of the shell.”

Phoebe, realising she’d been had, blushed while Trish cackled with delight.

It had been dry for a couple of days so I decided we could visit a woodland where it was fairly quick draining. We all piled into the car and half an hour later were disembarking and walking up a woodland ride. The late afternoon sun wasn’t terribly warming but it gave everything a lovely orange-golden glow.

I pointed out different plants and Trish discovered some Amanita muscaria or fly agaric, which is the one with the bright red top, usually with a few fragments of the white veil left on it. We also found some huge bracket fungus on a dying tree, this forms like dull rainbow coloured semicircles sticking out from the wood of the tree.

A party of mixed tits were feeding high up in the branches and occasionally scolding us as we walked along, most coal tits and blue tits, but occasionally the louder call of the great tit was also heard. In the distance a great spotted woodpecker called and overhead a family of buzzards circled, mewing as they rode the thermals. It was a lovely autumn afternoon and I was close to feeling blissful, a whole pile of kids and they were all enjoying themselves–no whingeing about how far they’d walked or anything–it was pure pleasure.

As we strolled towards the reserve within the woodland, the sun and its golden tones, the birdsong, life felt so good–this is what it’s all about, the simple pleasures and as always I felt the rider to it–watch some bastard spoil it.

At first I couldn’t decide where the sound of the chainsaws were coming from, as the noise can echo or be disguised by the trees and bushes–then, with horror, I saw they were in the protected area.

I rounded up the children and made them stay together and wait for me, tree felling is potentially very dangerous. Then I ran shouting towards the men, three of them one with a saw the others cleaning up the timber.

“Hey, you can’t do that here,” I shouted at them.

“Yeah, sez who?”

“It’s a nature reserve with protected species.” I remonstrated.

“Like what?”

“Like bats and dormice.”

“Tough, bloody vermin the lot of them.”

“What permission do you have to fell here?”

“Plenty, why?”

“I’m calling the police.”

“Feel free.”

“As someone who is registered to use this woodland, I’m making a citizen’s arrest of you three men. Please stay here while the police come.”

“Are bats protected then?” one of the workmen asked his colleague.

“Don’t be daft, they’re just flying mice in they?”

“Bats are insectivores, not mice, and yes they and dormice are protected with fines of up to a thousand pounds per animal. There are nest boxes of both in this area and I would support Natural England in prosecuting you.”

“Oo the ‘ell are they?”

“Natural England is the government agency which protects the countryside, used to be called the Nature Conservancy Council.”

“Oo-er,” said the smallest of the three men, and he towered over me. I reckon they were illegally collecting timber for wood burning stoves, because the Forestry Commission who own the woodland wouldn’t permit felling in this area because of the dormice.

I dialled the police, I had their regular number these days. Before I could say anything, one of them snatched my Blackberry and threw it into the undergrowth and another pushed me over, while they jumped into their truck and started it up. They turned it round as I extracted myself from the bush into which they’d pushed me.

I stood and shouted at them, only to realise in horror that they were coming back at me. I jumped aside at the last moment and revisited the bush I’d fallen into before. As I jumped up again, I saw them heading for the group of girls, who all ran to either side of the truck but pelted it with sticks and stones as it went past. I tried to get the number but it was gone before I could see it fully.

I walked down to the girls, my ankle was hurting where I’d landed awkwardly so my progress was slow and Trish realising something was wrong rushed up to me. “Are you okay, Mummy?”

“No I’m not, look at the mess–they’ve taken down half a dozen nest boxes and dozens of trees, tried to kill me and run you lot down as well. Then to cap it all, I’ve twisted my ankle and they threw my phone into the bushes.”

“Poor, Mummy,” said Trish and she wandered up to the cleared site.

“Are you okay, Lady Cameron?” asked Phoebe, “You do lead an exciting life.”

“Don’t I just–thanks for suggesting we come here, the damage could have been a lot worse if we hadn’t.”

“Where’s Trish gone?” asked Livvie.

We looked around and she wasn’t to be seen. Damn, all I needed was for her to be kidnapped by elves to completely make my sodding day.

“Trish,” I yelled, it echoing round the trees.

A moment later she emerged from some bushes holding up something. It turned out to be my Blackberry. “Here you are, Mummy,” she said handing it back to me.

“How did you find it?” I asked in relative astonishment.

“I called it on my phone and went to the ring, it was easy, really.”

“Clever clogs,” I said hugging her, partly from relief that she was safe and partly because the Blackberry was a present from Simon. “I don’t suppose you got the number of the truck as well, did you?”

She nodded, and showed me the photo of the truck, clearly displaying a number plate, her phone also had a video of the truck trying to run me down. She really was a clever clogs, far more so than I was.

We sat down and I did phone the police. As soon as I said my name I heard a sigh from the other end. I did tend to have a bit too frequent contact with them. However, when I explained what had happened, they promised to send a car as quickly as they could. It was beginning to get dark and told them we’d walk back to our car.

My ankle was becoming very sore and I had to use a stick to walk at all. I did call Gareth Sage and report the event to him. As the Hampshire officer, he would need to know. He rang me back a moment later and said he was on his way, he knew exactly where I’d described to him.

It was dark by the time we got back to the car and Gareth arrived a few minutes later. My ankle was really swollen and it was obvious I couldn’t drive home. The police came a little later and told me one of them would drive my car home, the other would take me to the hospital–they insisted.

The girls and I waited while Gareth and the coppers drove up to the felled site, then returned. They saw enough to know that the area was badly damaged, Gareth was very angry at the damage and the attempt to hurt the kids and I. The police were shrugging their shoulders, until I asked Trish to show them her phone and its evidence. Given that she’d had one borrowed by the police before, she was a little reluctant. However, once they saw the truck, the number of it and the attempt to squash me, they almost licked their lips with anticipation.

“How much per animal?” asked the older copper.

“At least a thousand pounds or a couple of years in prison. Why?” asked Gareth.

“Oh good,” replied the copper, “This is Digger Mackay, he’s so called because he used to dig badgers and put them against dogs. When that got too hairy, he went over to illegal logging for firewood, but we never managed to pin much on him. This little lady has just guaranteed him a nice holiday courtesy of Her Majesty.”

“Trish and her mum are like Batman and Robin, aren’t they?” Phoebe said quietly to Billie, but loudly enough for most of us to hear it, and the two policemen laughed loudly.