Jim Foxall
Senior Member
I haven't posted for sometime but feel driven to do so, to mourn the plight of those poor little otter cubs. Thank goodness some have been saved from the floods but just how many poor little souls have perished? Which brings me on to poor mousey, a tragic story but one which I feel compelled to tell the World.
One day I found that the reel handles of my XTE reels had been chewed. Replacement handles were £20. On receiving this news I flew into an irrational rage and set countless traps hoping that mousey would steer clear and leave. You can imagine my grief when next morning there was poor mousey, upside down on his back caught in a piece of iron-mongery, designed by the devil. I tried to save him, putting him outside, hoping that he was stunned and would recover. A little later I returned and he had gone, I can only cling on to the hope that he recovered and that the experience did not traumatise him too much. But in those cold rational moments I fear the worst. In mousey's memory, I constructed a shrine, with the same piece of iron mongery but this time with a little warning note to steer clear of such devices and some flowers placed around it. I can hardly bring myself to write this, the tears welling up and a lump in my throat when I discovered poor mousey or son of poor mousey stuck in the infernal device. My shrine had become the antithesis of what I had intended. Gently, he was taken outside and put on a bed of cotton wool. He seemed as rigid as a board, the poor little fellow. Thankfully, by the next morning he had disappeared and I can only hope that he made a full recovery and joined up with his father. I was told by a callous individual that he might have died and consequently taken away by a creature of the night. I pray that this did not happen, he didn't deserve such an end. I can't believe that I was instrumental in poor mousey's fate. Yes, he could be naughty at times and could be a bit of a scamp, but aren't we all at some time or another? And putting things into perspective are a couple of chewed reel handles that important, sufficient for mousey to lose his life? Of course not, as any rational person would conclude. I still suffer flashbacks, often just before going to sleep, when I remember poor mousey, with his slightly twisted playful smile. Underneath he was good, I know he was. Let this story be a lesson to anyone who finds some of their fishing gear damaged, try to live with your mousey, put a little food down for him and he might reward you by showing you his family. As a warning, I told my friends and for that matter anyone who would listen including my GP, when I visited the surgery on an unrelated matter. Everyone has been so kind and my GP was so sympathetic. In fact he had a similar experience with ratty. Quite a lot of people have joined the discussion group all wanting to know about poor mousey. Everyone has been so helpful with lots of visits from lots of different people who all want to help. I'm hoping to go home soon. I can't remember, did I tell you about poor squirrelly?
One day I found that the reel handles of my XTE reels had been chewed. Replacement handles were £20. On receiving this news I flew into an irrational rage and set countless traps hoping that mousey would steer clear and leave. You can imagine my grief when next morning there was poor mousey, upside down on his back caught in a piece of iron-mongery, designed by the devil. I tried to save him, putting him outside, hoping that he was stunned and would recover. A little later I returned and he had gone, I can only cling on to the hope that he recovered and that the experience did not traumatise him too much. But in those cold rational moments I fear the worst. In mousey's memory, I constructed a shrine, with the same piece of iron mongery but this time with a little warning note to steer clear of such devices and some flowers placed around it. I can hardly bring myself to write this, the tears welling up and a lump in my throat when I discovered poor mousey or son of poor mousey stuck in the infernal device. My shrine had become the antithesis of what I had intended. Gently, he was taken outside and put on a bed of cotton wool. He seemed as rigid as a board, the poor little fellow. Thankfully, by the next morning he had disappeared and I can only hope that he made a full recovery and joined up with his father. I was told by a callous individual that he might have died and consequently taken away by a creature of the night. I pray that this did not happen, he didn't deserve such an end. I can't believe that I was instrumental in poor mousey's fate. Yes, he could be naughty at times and could be a bit of a scamp, but aren't we all at some time or another? And putting things into perspective are a couple of chewed reel handles that important, sufficient for mousey to lose his life? Of course not, as any rational person would conclude. I still suffer flashbacks, often just before going to sleep, when I remember poor mousey, with his slightly twisted playful smile. Underneath he was good, I know he was. Let this story be a lesson to anyone who finds some of their fishing gear damaged, try to live with your mousey, put a little food down for him and he might reward you by showing you his family. As a warning, I told my friends and for that matter anyone who would listen including my GP, when I visited the surgery on an unrelated matter. Everyone has been so kind and my GP was so sympathetic. In fact he had a similar experience with ratty. Quite a lot of people have joined the discussion group all wanting to know about poor mousey. Everyone has been so helpful with lots of visits from lots of different people who all want to help. I'm hoping to go home soon. I can't remember, did I tell you about poor squirrelly?
