Over the past few years, our little homestead has started to look like a real old-fashioned farm, complete with all the standard barnyard animals. But if you’re thinking things are all E-I-E-I-O around here, think again.
Nowhere in that classic children’s farm song do I recall a verse in which Old McDonald had some rats.
Yes, rats.
It started about a month ago. Early one morning while opening up the turkey house, I spied a shadow slipping away from the feeder.
“Perhaps it’s a little Beatrix Potter field mouse,” I said. “I’ll call him Cuddly Wumpkins.”
