Today, our small group of mice are safe on a little island that we have yet to name. We haven’t been here long. Maybe a week or two. A sweet young man who some of our friends met at the zoo helped us by ferrying us to this little island. I will tell our story so, in case this journal is found in the future, the visitors know how this island became the home to so many mice.
We had lived peacefully in the Land of the Humans for many years, long before our home was called the Land of the Humans. We sang and we danced together. All food that we had was shared amongst the mice. We never permitted our mousie friends to go hungry. In fact, the idea that any mousie should go hungry was not something we could understand. Our lives were peaceful because we never experienced loneliness or deprivation. Even in times of drought, we never went without. We had less but we shared and we huddled together for warmth, which we all felt.
When large numbers of humans came after the humans broke off their friendship with the bears, we still weren’t worried. But then, the humans started building and building and building. They built houses and churches and schools and government buildings. They dug up our precious ground to find the fire beneath so they could turn it into fuel. Everything smelled bad. We could still huddle together, but we started feeling sick. We tried traveling on human conveyances, including buses and trains. But we were pushed out and chased away. We were cold and sick so, we had to go into the homes of the humans to feel warmth and to not smell the bad smell of the earth’s fire being turned into fuel. We were afraid. It was a new feeling for us. When we lived with the other animals, we never knew fear. Probably because we were too tiny of a morsel to eat.
The humans grew angry that we were living in their houses. They set traps and they trained attack cats to chase us and frighten us. We always were friends with cats. But now, something had changed. We ran out of the houses and we tried to find places to huddle. But the humans began setting poison outside, disguised as delicious foods. Some of the hungry mice ate the poison and died, screaming and crying. We had never seen anything like this. Our harmony was gone. Our peace had been ruined. We wept for our lost wilderness because the humans had chopped down so many trees. It was said that they burned up the trees with the earth’s fire. We were terrified and we were beginning to dwindle in numbers.
One day, that sweet young man was walking home from the zoo, and he saw a few of us mice. He was one of the few humans who remembered how to speak the many animal languages. He sat on a tree stump and he asked, “Why are you so sad?”
“Our homes are being destroyed and our friends are being poisoned,” the mouse king said.
“I have a friend who could help you,” the young man said. “He is a bear. One day, he will be a great sea captain. Or maybe, he is one now. I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since he was getting ready for his big journey and his naming ceremony. I heard that he was called Bearnacle. The bears in the zoo told me. If I could find him, he would come and he would help you find safety. “
“He sounds wonderful, but we are in danger now,” said the mouse king.
“Well,” said the young man. “I have a boat. I could transport a bunch of you to a nearby island. Later on, I can transport more. And I can bring to you whatever you need.”
“Thank you,” said the mouse king.
A week later, a group of us mice piled in a sailboat and we sailed to the island that still has no name. The young man brought a few more of our friends several days later, but then, he stopped coming. We don’t know what happened. We became acutely aware that we were too close to the land of the humans to feel safe.
(to be continued)
