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Updated: June 18, 2025
They call themselves rats, but I don't believe that they are rats at all. I am sure they're a sort of fish by the way they swim. And the way they eat! And the way they multiply! They have children once a week, I do believe. It's disgusting." "It certainly is," said the wood-mouse. "Cousin House-Mouse and I were just sitting and talking about it, cousin. But what's to be done, cousin?
You see, cousin, there is a great deal of wickedness in this world; and we have to put up with it. But it's pretty hard when it comes from one's relations." "That's true, cousin," said the house-mouse. "Are there really any of your relations who do you any harm?" "Harm?" said the wood-mouse. "I daresay that those of whom I'm thinking don't think of doing me any harm.
She was very much distressed at my deceit, as she called it, and said that she had done with me and would never give me any more sugar. And, since that day, I have not had a single lump. It's a terrible loss to me." "So it is," said the wood-mouse. "But what can you do? You can't explain the thing to her, you know." "No," said the house-mouse. "I can't do that.
The wood-mouse and the rabbits, while entering or leaving the underground passages, and wandering through the paths in the wood, took care to avoid their powerful neighbours; the foxes, believing that out of sight is out of mind, avoided with equal care all chances of encountering the badgers; and the badgers, sluggish in movement and tolerant in disposition, refrained from evicting the foxes or digging out the rabbits.
A wood-mouse stirred the vines and appeared for an instant on the lower rail, then disappeared as if very much frightened at having shown himself in the sunlight. He always does just so at his first appearance. Presently a red squirrel rushes out of the thicket at the left, scurries along the rails and up and down the posts.
"Gracious!" said the house-mouse and jumped right into the air. "There's the brown rat!" And there he was. The brown rat stood and mumbled with his snout and sniffed at the dead black cousin, while keeping an eye upon the wood-mouse, who retreated a little farther still into her hole. "Good-afternoon, cousin," said the wood-mouse. "Welcome to the country.
"But the mistress will never forget me, because she believes I deceived her. And the new cat has set eyes on my hole and she is on the look-out. Some day, sooner or later, I shall be eaten up." "Yes, it's awfully sad," said the wood-mouse. "But what can one do...? Hullo, who's coming now?" The house-mouse turned round and looked in the same direction as the wood-mouse.
"Living in the green wood and hearing the birds sing all day long? No cat and no mouse-traps?" "Yes, it's all right about the birds," said the wood-mouse. "And about the cats too. But you mustn't think on that account, cousin, that this is a sort of paradise. I hear very little of the birds down where I live; and I may as well admit that I don't bother my head about them.
From grasshoppers the cubs took to hunting the wood-mice that nested in the dry moss and swarmed on the edges of every thicket. This was keener hunting; for the wood-mouse moves like a ray of light, and always makes at least one false start to mislead any that may be watching for him.
She was in the habit of occasionally bringing something home for them to play with a wood-mouse, perhaps, or a squirrel, or a partridge, or even a larger animal; and they played with it with a vengeance, shaking and worrying it, and spitting and growling and snarling over it in the most approved fashion. And you should have seen them the first time they saw their mother catch a rabbit.
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