Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Chutzpah, hubris, gutsy. Whichever word, I know a mouse with plenty of moxy. There I sat by Sheila's side, milking away and thinking pleasant thoughts on a chill but sunny morning yesterday, when I felt slight movement by my outstretched leg on the stand. Looking down, I saw the two black beady eyes of a small mouse looking at me. Usually direct eye contact sends a mouse skittering down the nearest hidey-hole, but this little critter stayed put and stared right back. I continued milking so as not to break the spell, and Mouse moved even closer to me and toward the bucket. Was this my little friend who has eaten breakfast so close by? Had he been overcome with curiosity as to what I've been doing every morning? Did Mouse want a drink of milk to go with his cereal? (Tempted? Oh, yes, I was tempted to aim a squirt his way, but resisted.) What in the world possessed Mouse to climb up on the stand with a stamping goat and a giant She, let alone call attention by touching me? Only after Mouse moved back between Sheila's front feet did I raise my hand. That was not a safe place; one hoof coming down like a pile driver could squash Mouse flat. Even then, the little guy just went over to the corner of the stand and sat watching awhile longer, showing more bravery than good sense. Whatever the reason, it was a unique experience and a great way to start the day.