THE next spring, after my attempt to thin out the white-footed mice, the stoats returned. I did not molest them, and they reduced the number of mice in short order. Mouse number two had a little family in a nest on a shelf. They were mice-babies, helpless and sprawling. They were dragged out of the nest by one of the stoats, and were killed one at a time. The stoat was obliged to make three trips to remove the pile of dead mice. The mother had escaped by way of the stone wall at the rear of the cabin. After the slaughter was over, she returned and did a lot of drumming. I think she was reproaching me because I did not drive the stoat away. It made me feel guilty, but I had hardened my heart, on account of a valuable manuscript which this mouse had purloined and reduced to scraps, with which to decorate her last nest.
The following morning I saw the mother come into the cabin with a baby mouse in her mouth. I thought it might be one of her own dropped by the stoat. But I was soon undeceived. The mouse left, and soon returned with another little one. This time I examined the young mice. They did not belong to my mouse family. They were strangers to me. The old mouse cared for these babies as if they were her own. I expect that the stoats had killed the mother, and my mouse had adopted the orphans.
The young mice increased in size rapidly, and soon took on the adult form and color. Then I recognized them. They were the gray Hesperomys, while my mice were the fulvous Hesperomys. The first is found in deep woods, the latter near farm-buildings and in the neighboring woodlands.
I don't know where their foster-parent found the little imps, but it was a sorry find for her. As they increased in strength, it was evident that they conspired to take possession of the cabin. They worked in concert and fought in concert. While they were yet small the two would attack a full-grown mouse. If it chanced to be an old male, the little imps were sure to get mauled, until they would flee to their mother for protection. When full grown, they proved to be a match, single-handed, for any mouse in the cabin. Together, they were invincible.
The cabin became a battle-field every night. After a few weeks the white-foots were completely vanquished, and left. The two warriors drove their foster-mother out-doors, then for three months held undisputed possession of the food supply.
The white-foots are destructive gnawers, but the new mice could do more damage in one night than all the others could in a week. I had made a poor exchange. The two scamps were on friendly terms with me, and did not allow me to eat a meal without their company. They would come at my call, and would have proved desirable pets, if it had not been for the gnawing habit.
I had made up my mind to kill them, for I knew it would be only a matter of time when they would destroy every book and paper in the cabin. I got rid of them, however, without resorting to violence. A young married couple from the city saw and admired the mice, and when I offered to give them away, gladly accepted the offer. I do not know what became of them, and do not care to meet any of their race.
In a short time the white-foots returned to the cabin, and are with me now. The foster-mother that was turned out-doors did not return. She was one of the missing, and so sacrificed her life, after all her care of two ungrateful imps.