The softer side of "Golly" from 1943.
The writer has a sense of guilt. He has had that feeling since along in the fall.
Maybe, when you have read the "why," you will think he is really possessed of a sense of justice, or maybe you will think him a well-qualified candidate for a nut factory. Judge him as you see fit.
Last fall - probably in November - we made a trip to the shack in the Nine Mile. Sort of a farewell trip until such time as the snow and ice melt and the buds begin to swell.
The pits were scraped out (fully three quarts of them) and dumped in the fireplace. Never had we seen such a store of pits although we had often seen the halves of the pits scattered around
Later we were thinking about the family of white footed mice or deer mice. It was then we were troubled - still are.
Here was a family that had worked long and faithfully to lay aside a food store for winter. How many hundred trips had been made from the black cherry trees just outside to the storehouse, one could not even guess, but many hours must have been spent in the work.
No doubt the White Foots were proud of their labors and felt secure against the time when snow and ice would hide what pits might still be left on the ground, when food of any kind would be hard to find.
Suddenly, when the family was dreaming of peace and plenty for the long winter months, along comes a giant – a monster – an ogre. He scrapes up all that food and destroys it, almost in the twinkling of an eye. The more we thought of that act of thoughtlessness the more it has troubled us.
Suppose for a moment we had made a garden and worked hard to plant, to cultivate and harvest the food crops. Suppose we had stored the potatoes and turnips, and canned the beets and beans and corn. Suppose suddenly a giant appears, scoops the whole supply and wantonly destroys it!
To our mind the cases are parallel. We regret deeply having robbed so insignificant a living creature as a tiny white foot mouse.
No trial do we ask. We plead guilty and throw ourselves on the mercy of the court.
2 comments:
There were always mice in that place, and I'm sure there still are. They are not always the brown kind either. I suppose it is worthy to note that Golly spend much time enjoying the chipmunks that lived in the woodpile. I am sure he wrote about them. A really cool thing about chipmunks is that if you hold very still they will run right on you sometimes. I think he would try to feed them by hand.
Golly really did have a soft heart ... this from 1949. "And speaking of rodents – another deer mouse worked her way into a cupboard that was not frequently used and when we were cleaning house we found her and her family in a nice nest. The old girl was driven out and babies scooped into an old pail and carried out in the woods. We can't help but hope Mother Mouse found her little ones. piece of tin was nailed over the hole she had made. We hope she finds a safer place for her next litter."
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