a wee little mousie

It is when the heeler sisters and I wander over to check out the water level that I see it. Huddled against the dawn's cold, tail wrapped tightly around the body. Surrounded by an impenetrable moat and an unclimbable wall.

A mouse.

A white-footed deer mouse, to be specific. (Yes, the species most likely to carry hanta virus. Which we do have here. Lost two people in our county to it already this year.) Looking as pathetic as any critter could.

No telling how long it'd been trapped in there. These troughs are supposed to have escape ramps for small animals, but this one does not. Bones of another mouse were laying in the moat not a half-meter away.

But this little thing looked resigned to its fate. Just trying to stay warm until something big came along to eat it and end its misery.

Until, that is, I climbed into the trough.

(Well, of course I climbed in. This your first time reading this journal?)

With my arrival, and the little maskless heeler peeking in over the rim to see what was going on, the little mouse launched itself into the water.

Where it was quickly scooped up, and flipped out onto the ground.

Taking refuge, cold and wet but safe, between some rocks.

Now my route for the morning takes me on a big loop, passing about four miles from this well near the end.

I turned on the pump.

After a few moments of gurgling, the water began to flow.

Three hours later, I diverted from the end of my route to turn the pump off. In that time, the trough was completely full

and had overflowed a good 40 meters down the dune.

The few dozen pronghorn in that pasture should be happy.

And just for good measure, I threw in an old board as a temporary escape route for small things. (Hey, Sis... do you remember playing with those old mossy boards floating in Grandpa's troughs?)