The Mouse that Thundered  We live alongside a fence of a retirement village in the bushveld, which position provides us with endless insights into the life that goes on in the veld. Snakes, scorpions, hares, guinea fowl and partridges pay us visits from time to time, and it's a veritable jungle out there outside the fence, as buck, hares, meercats, francolins etc. run up and down the mown path and smaller birds such as bee-eaters and flappet larks utilise God's nature. And the sunsets!    There is a patch of ground about 3 metres square on the south west corner of our cottage wherein we have never been able to grow anything but weeds and rocks; as a result of which the area was dug up and a ton or so of rocks and builders rubble was excavated and removed.  Shoots of LM grass that were kindly supplied by neighbours and friends in the village were planted and assiduously watered and fertilised. After a week or so it was apparent that there were more weeds than grass growing which resulted in me spending many hours sitting on a box with a weeding tool in hand while watching my grass grow, sending out long shoots that slowly but surely covered the bare patches of ground.    One morning it was noticeable that the grass, and especially the nice juicy new shoots were being eaten in one corner of the patch and many possible insect pests such as mole crickets, Parktown prawns, etc. were considered and rejected as there was just too much destruction taking place.    The next morning while perched on the weeding box the mystery was solved when a field mouse was espied, sitting like a dead raasblaar leaf in my patch of green and having a feast! What a cheek! Right before my eyes, and only about 3 metres away. When I stood up to go and fetch my trusty 57 year old pellet gun and look for the pellets, the mouse just sat there as if I didn't exist. The first shot at 3 metres caused the mouse to jump, probably at the noise. The second shot and it just sat there with the jaws working. Then it was remembered that the gun shot to one side, but which side? The third shot was aimed to the right; mouse continued eating. At the fourth shot, aimed to the left, mouse jumped 300 mm into the air and rushed into the bushes - exit one mouse.    So I thought.    Ten minutes later, on looking up, mouse was once more espied finishing off breakfast, but this time within a metre of me. This was ridiculous, and moreover, when the not so trusty weapon was retrieved from the house, mouse just carried right on moving those jaws.  Coming into sight once more I stalked mouse, using the weeding box as a stalking horse and placing the barrel of the loaded gun on the box just a metre or so from the target, a very careful aim was made while the trigger was squeezed. At one metre distance it just carried on eating.    This mouse obviously had protection and being crouched down looking at it I realised that there was a message here for me, so mouse was left alone to do what was intended for it to do and I got up to put the gun away, discovering that the barrel was blocked!    My wife's words on being informed on all of this was "That mouse belongs to the Lord so leave it alone." However it was my grass that was being destroyed - all those nice juicy runners that were slowly covering the bare ground - so I went to look for a mouse trap.    It was now up to the mouse.    The first trap that I tested came apart in my hands and it became more and more apparent that my wife was right: however the second trap was loaded and baited with a nice aromatic piece of salami and placed in the position where most of the damage to the grass had been done.    The weeding process continued.    A short while later mousie emerged and sidled up to me, closed its eyes and started those jaws working on a juicy shoot of LM grass within striking distance of my arm and weeding tool. However, the message intended for me had now been received, so we sat side by side each doing our thing until a lady and her dog walked up the path outside the fence causing mousie to scurry away in fright - and sit right next to the trap. The lady was informed of most of the proceedings, looked at mousie, shook her head and moved on. Now, the mouse must have smelt that salami, just what hungry mice hunger for, but not this one.    A short while later, a sore back and a call for tea left the field to the victor, but on coming back to continue weeding it was discovered that mousie must have felt lonely because it had followed after, up the path alongside the house and was sitting in the narrowest part, allowing me so close that I could have kicked it into oblivion, but on stepping over it mousie ran into some plants - and that was the last I saw of it.    A few hours later the mousetrap was sprung and the salami had been eaten.      So what is the thunderous message that the mouse left behind?  God is near to those who know Him, love Him, obey Him, who believe that He is and trust that He is the Shield that loved them first and looks after them.    All glory to the Living God!   O send out thy light and thy truth: let them lead me; let them bring me unto thy holy hill, and to thy tabernacles. (Psalms 43:3)