Custom Nostalgic Wyllop
Jane
In fact, she wasn't even given a proper mouse name. Most newborn mice are given names after plants the rodents are familiar with, like Barley or Dandelion.
Chirrup was named for the soft whistle created by her slightly crooked teeth when she breathed.
She had her entire life ahead of her to make up for her odd name, but while most mice hid and foraged and worried and hid some more, Chirrup found herself drawn to exploration and adventure and discovery.
No, Chirrup wasn't very good at being a mouse.
And thus, despite there being 243 other mice near the old house on the hill, she found herself a lonesome pioneer of the intriguing.
A cat lived in the yard who took pleasure in taking the lives of small animals that wound up between his claws, despite the easy meals he made from the couple who lived in the house.
It wasn't uncommon for Chirrup to witness this rotten feline hunt in the grass, but it was particularly troubling for her when she watched him snatch a sparrow out of the air during the spring. She had watched the bird perfect a tidy little nest in the boughs of a great oak tree and found this wonderfully fascinating. But all of that work had gone to waste.
Or had it?
It would be a good thing as a mouse to salvage pieces from an abandoned nest, right? Climbing that great oak tree had nothing to do with curiosity for what was in the nest, right? Right.
Wrong.
Chirrup was dying to see if the cat had possibly killed more than the sparrow.
And he might have, had Chirrup not braved such a climb and didn't turn back - even when her tiny fingers bled. And he might have, if Chirrup peered into the nest and decided there was nothing she could do for three sparrow's eggs. And he might have, if Chirrup foraged what she could for her own home before going on her way.
But Chirrup wasn't very good at being a mouse.
The sight of the eggs took her breath away. She pressed her head against them and her ears could just detect the faint movement of life beneath the thin shells. Her whiskers quivered. What could she do?
She couldn't leave them.
No.
She would raise them.
They would be hers.
Even if she had to feed them worms, which she hoped was some kind of weird rumor about birds.
