#fieldmice

[lynseyluu]

Mousey McMouseface 🐭💜 . . . . #lynseyluu #mouse #mouse🐭 #miceofinstagram #fieldmice #mousejewellery #woodland #woodlandwildlife #wildmouse #mousenecklace #mousebadge #etsyfinds #quirkyjewellery #lasercut #ilovemice #animaljewelry #newdesigns #woodlandcritters #mouseinthehouse #mouselove #woodmouse #petmouse #petmice #petmiceofinstagram #etsy #etsyshop #etsysellersofinstagram #shopinthesquare #indieroller #handcrafteduniquelycommunity https://www.instagram.com/p/CdWNw8mspRl/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[ssaalexblake]

i’m assuming that trap caught the mouse and that’s why there’s so much noise up there, but honestly, one time before when they’d gotten up in the loft i set out traps to catch them and went up there the next day after a ton of noise, and it turned out they’d tripped the mechanisms, turned the traps on their sides, chewed them open a bit more so it had a wider door, and were using them as nest boxes, so maybe i’m jumping the gun here assuming i’ve caught one. 

[beyondthisdarkhouse]

When I started choosing embroidery patterns for my store, I was really focused on relatively small, simple designs. Things that would be quick and easy for beginners. But honestly... I think I underestimated just how easy the printed interfacing would be, since it's the needlework version of completing a dot-to-dot patterns. They take time, but none of the constant counting and ripping stitches out.

So that meant I've started to get ambitious. Little designs are still great, but what about a few designs that are dazzling from the other side of the room? As a treat?

Maybe just one of Giovanni Ostaus's shirt opening border designs from 1561?

Some fancy chickens and um... tulips? pomegranates? water fountains?

And just for me, a pattern you won't find in any history book, a little confection I made that I like to call: "Strawberry Fieldmice Forever"

That's only like, half of them. I just dumped a whole bunch onto my Etsy.

Interested?

Beginner-friendly historical and fantasy embroidery patterns, right this way!

[jame7t]

80 heroic fieldmice have been lost at sea

[alchemicalrei]

The Fieldmice! …Fieldmouses??

[gastrophobia]

Added three more character cards to YBR's cast page.

Of course, the Loons have already appeared in the comic.

Sir Dashemoff Daily was a character in the 1902 stage play (played by a woman) who tried to woo Dorothy. He was a human, but I decided to make him a donkey because Oz is full of talking animals. He only shows up on two pages unless I decide to do a rewrite before his appearance.

Hickory plays the role of the Queen of the Fieldmice's subject in Marvelous Land of Oz, but his backstory is he's also a character from the short story, "Hickory, Dickory, Dock", in Baum's Mother Goose in Prose.

I'll probably go back and add that dragon to the cast page at some point, but I need to add characters in groups of three so that the table isn't uneven! ;)

[drtanner]

While I wait for my rice to cook, here's some useful advice for anyone who wants it:

A wild animal is an animal whose natural state is to occupy a habitat away from and without the intervention of human people, e.g., all big cats, all bears, owls, fieldmice, insects, fish; most animals honestly

A tame animal is an animal that was born wild but has since become accustomed to people, e.g., garden birds that eat from your hand

A domesticated animal is an animal that has been bred for many, many generations to live happily with people and has adaptations to facilitate this, e.g., domestic dogs & cats, livestock, horses, pigeons

A feral animal is a domesticated animal that has escaped into the wild and learned to live there, sometimes for many generations, e.g., most "wild" horses, city pigeons, that one pig you heard about that escaped from a farm and grew thick hair and tusks within a month

Hope this helps! ( b ._.)b

[monstersandmaw]

tiny nagas based on the brahminy blindsnake

omg when you said tiny, you really meant it! Living with the tiny fairy folk in little acorn houses or nomadic ones built on the back of animals like fieldmice or snails or blackbirds, with capital 'cities' on raven back or something.... oh man. Yeah, teenytiny nagas

[existentialcrisistime]

mouse fact? :)

these are all turning out to be stories from my past rather than straightforward facts but:

when I was at uni some 10+ years ago, I got extremely good at diving on and catching mice in my bare hands like a goalkeeper

from second year onwards we lived in a two-hundred-year-old farmhouse out in the countryside (see #postcards from malcolmstone), but of course with it having been used as student accommodation for the past decade or so, it was falling into disrepair. and, with our nearest neighbours being fields, you get fieldmice

we were all very opposed to the kill traps the landlord had set up for us, so our tried and tested method was simply: I'd be up late in the living room, and when I saw a mouse I'd simply catch it, transfer it to the Mouse Box (a large tupperware with holes drilled in and a bit of straw to cushion), and someone else would strap that to his bike and take the mouse on a journey to near the uni canteen some ten minutes away, in the hope the mouse would find richer pickings there. & rinse and repeat, so on and so forth

bonus fact: mice were by no means the only creature in and around the house - there was your usual lineup of ants and slugs on occasion, swifts in the old outhouses and pheasants in the overgrown garden, and one night we even spotted a rabbit in the kitchen, that had come through the hole behind the fridge. make of that what you will, I suppose

[earthpit]

what if we were two fieldmice sharing a little hole in the ground for our burrow

this is real & true to me and we have little flower hats and drink lemonade out of acorns and trade trinkets with birds

[sweetfirebird]

I wanted to tag Mattin on that reblog with the berry earrings but tbh Mattin wouldn't really be on the flowers and fieldmice aesthetic. HOWEVER ripe, juicy berries dangling from his ears like bait on a lure? Absolutely.

[ozkar-krapo]

V/A

"Fieldmice - ESVB vol.1"

(cassette. Radio Mulot. 2020)

[salvatriceaverse]

“Oh the Charity Riverbottoms where the wind that blows this tune like some mouth on a frenchharp is comin from! There in the spring the dogwood used to blossom and blow, and the redbud and yella jessmine; and the katdids ‘ud bleat like the beat of an old rusty heart, and the frogs make such a husky commotion. Oh the sweet breath of the woods — the baby-breath fern and the little woodsviolets and the daylilies; and on Rob’s Hill risin up beyond the old river bridge there’d be Fire on the Mountain blazin like the burnin bushes of Moses. There’s a new steel bridge now and the old one is broken and swaybacked—the one I’d never ride over, was condemned, and would make them let me get out and walk across when we’d go for our rides out on the Highway. (Remember those summer Sundays we had our picnics there and all’d go wadin in the water, and look for good sweetgum and hickry sticks; and some would be fishin with sugarcane poles and others’d be rustlin through the dry palmettas like fieldmice or strollin under the shinin longleaf pines and the blackjack pines — and through it all the sweet little Charity River flowin lazy, and small, and clear as a tear. Instead of all this decoration of the woods, you know what’s there now, oilwells there now, thickern flies, all along there; and all the treefrogs and whipperwills are flown away, caint live in an oil derrick, no nature left, no wonder…) Nothin is like it used to be except the wind blown from the riverbottoms into my shutter to play a tune about what has gone. (The bottomlands are bald and have sluices and slues full of black, muddy oil scabs, can smell it here when the wind’s right. That stink puts all Charity in a spell, they walla in it, it smells money. Never the sweet fresh smell of the old riverbottoms. Is this the vile oil of joy, this green and yellow putrid scum over the ponds?) The world has sold away everthing that was beautiful and as the Lord put it here to be, human beins have changed everything into money and show. Why, out by Tomball the land is littered with oilwell riggins, and day and night the chug-chug-chug and the little flickrin oil flames wavin in the night like the red flags of the Devil staked out to say he owns this infernal land […].”

— William Goyen, The House of Breath (1950)

[spacefatty]

This morning I performed a sacred rite. One that has possible existed for as long as civilization and been traced back 78 to 100 thousand years. It was a burial. I buried a local neighborhood stray that apparently chose to take its last breaths in my backyard. There’s something quieting about digging a hole in the early sun beneath a maple tree and placing a limp body in the earth. His paws were cold and the fur on them was wet. Was he running in the dewy grass? He didn’t smell yet. His fur was soft, nose cold and damp, ears ghostly pale, and eyes wide. They were still slightly damp, but they did not close when I gently touched them. 

I am not sure how far he was gone; his body was soft and flexible, but his anus seemed to be hosting some new visitors. According to google, maggots take up residence as early as 24 hours after death, which is also the time rigor mortis can end. When I lifted him, I was confused, the side he was laying on felt warm, or at least warmer than the rest of him. I think this was just an illusion put on by the insulating effect of a furry body half-shielded from the 48-degree morning.

The soil was brown and damp. New and rich in places, thick and grainy after the tree roots. I got perhaps a foot or more down, all the while questioning how deep a grave even needs to be. I carried him in my bare hands over to the hole, kneeled and gently set him in. It almost seemed a shame for his lovely gray and brown stripes to be covered with mud and earth. But I remember soil is sacred and life giving. He lived and loved this land -yes even my land- so to it he should return. 

There are a lot of strays, and neighborhood cats where I live. It’s largely a community of retirees and low-income housing. Many of the elderly here (as anywhere) take the time to offer food and water to the roaming kitties. I don’t blame them, though it can get old seeing so many roving critters. There’s a soft spot in my heart for my 99-year-old neighbor directly across from me who cares for about 3 or 4 including two Garfield look-alikes. Since buying this land and moving here it’s almost felt as if I am only borrowing the land from the cats. The elderly woman who lived -and likely died- in this house wasn’t terribly active outside and so her largely undisturbed grass and trees provided new horizons for them. Once I moved in, I found eyes regularly peaking down from the branches above. Last summer I let the backyard grow wild for many months and apparently this provided prime habitat for fieldmice, and so prime playground for neighborhood cats.

I had often seen this tabby cat sneaking buy, and I shooed him and his mini-me away. Now I felt a little guilt for not allowing some love, even though his kind wreak havoc on the local mice and native birds. I suppose at least he can find his peace here now. I scooped the soft dirt up in my hands and arms and swept it over onto him. Softly, soundlessly he was covered over by living earth. Layer after layer until I returned the roughhewn square of Dicanthelium root mat I cut with my spade. It should rain soon; that will help the dirt settle and the plants recover. Perhaps he will become the ground and feed dandelions.

[twinkandwink]

The last time I saw a gig at The Crown was probably 1989 when the cellar was called Le Cav and the likes of The Fieldmice, Jane Pow, Mega City 4, Thrilled Skinny played there... remember them? It's open again and it's not changed much apart from a lick of paint and the addition of a stage, well kindof a stage.

Brooklyn's Cumgirl8 came to Bristol, provocative and punky and as they put it they're a "sex-positve alien amoeba entity" They were fun.

Pics and Tracks: Take Me Home Again

Cumgirl8 - The Crown, Bristol 3rd Dec 2022