The Mouse Trap

I found myself strangely prostrated on Monday, quite exhausted and unable even to read. Having spent yesterday recovering, I am now back in my habitual rude health. I don't know what caused this malaise – possibly a touch of sunstroke or dehydration following a sunny afternoon of butterfly hunting on the Surrey hills (Grizzled Skippers, Dingy Skippers and a single Green Hairstreak, breaking last year's duck).
 While I was out of action, in-house entertainment was provided by a field mouse (or maybe mice) that was making merry in various cupboards about the house, and was to be glimpsed from time to time skittering across the floor. Last night I set a trap – a humane one that catches the mouse alive – are awaited results. It was one of the tilting kind, with the bait at the far, raised end: mouse goes in to get the bait, its weight tips the entrance end into the air, door snaps shut, mouse trapped. Rising early this morning, I found the trap firmly shut, so clearly it had done its job. I carefully carried it down the road to the allotments, opened the door, tapped the far end, shook it, looked inside (in approved cartoon fashion). Nothing. The mouse had somehow managed both to escape and to shut the door politely behind it. Round one to Timmy Willie – but that trap will be set again tonight, and I'll be waiting...

On Monday I tottered into the garden in the early evening, heard a familiar aerial scream, looked up – and there they were, the first swifts of the year! Three of them, circling quite low down. Summer is here.