A rat is nosing around the garden in broad daylight, sniffing out and devouring Benjy the rabbit’s leftovers. He is sleek and young and his fur shines in the sunshine. I wonder if I should be chasing him away, but he’s outside, where he should be, not trespassing into the house or shed, or even digging in the compost bin. So instead I watch him, wondering where he sleeps and whether he (or she, of course) is breeding a host of baby rats with whom I may eventually have to do battle.
I think of him sleeping in a nest somewhere, in a cosy nook he’s made for himself, and am glad that, at least for the moment, we can live amicably side by side. If Benjy is willing to share his leftovers, so am I.
Then I read about the weasel that brought the Large Hadron Collider to a standstill and I wonder if perhaps I’m being too forgiving!