Bog Myrtle & Peat

Walking down a rough track to check on the trees this morning, I spotted a tiny black lump lying on the verge. Closer inspection revealed it to be a dead water shrew, smartly decked out in black velvet and a white waistcoat. I picked it up and examined the body to find that blood had seeped through his fur around his chest and abdomen. Unsure as to how he had met his maker, I slipped him into my pocket and took him home.

I have a book about shrews in my bookcase, and after reading a few chapters, I found that water shrews are one of the few venomous mammals in Britain, capable of paralysing slugs and worms with toxic spittle. I also discovered that shrews release a smelly pheromone when they are in distress, making them taste foul and unpleasant. The most probable explanation for my water shrew’s death was that he was killed by a fox, chewed and spat out when the predator noticed a nasty taste in its mouth. Repelling foxes after death doesn’t seem like much of a protection from attack, and a fox’s “shoot first, ask questions later” approach to hunting also leaves alot to be desired.

It all seems to have been an unpleasant mistake.