The Babies of Spring

I found a nest full of meadow voles between our hay bales. These beasties will methodically destroy ever single bale. They don’t hibernate. They happily burrow through the bales, chewing through every single rope along the way all winter long. They eat, poop, and reproduce. A great deal of our stored hay is ruined.

                There were seven babies in the nest. They looked like teeny tiny puppies, all silky and velvety. They have teeny, squeaky baby voices. They have the same bones in their little hands as we do. They are intricately exquisite. I held one and rubbed it gently against my lip. It was so smooth.

                Setting it back down, I placed a handful of hay on the nest and left them so their mother to find and move to a safer spot.

                Really, what difference will seven more meadow voles make in the world in a family of millions?