I was out early on my bike when I saw a dark stone in the trail that wasn’t a stone. Aw, a dead mouse, I thought, but stopped because it didn’t quite have that look dead mice usually have—that is, limp and lifeless. I walked back and put my finger to its whisker and it moved.
So I got it gently onto a leaf and shifted it to the side of the trail, which is a fairly busy one for hikers, bikers, and dogs. And then I tried to figure out if it was injured. I couldn’t see any sign of injury, but it seemed weak and its eyes were closed.
I get there eventually. This is a baby.
I left it where I’d put it, which wasn’t far from where its mother had presumably dropped it in a panic. I hope she came back for it. At least, before the hawk I’d put up from the side of the trail a little while before (it was exciting for both of us) found it.