That reminds me of the funniest thing I've ever seen. Like I said I often praise them for bringing in the provisions because I read somewhere that if you did they would get used to 'giving' them to you. Well it worked with mine, too well. They often bring in live stock that runs for cover as soon as they drop it and then the dogs give chase and it usually ends up dead.
John had gone to bed one night and I, as usual, was flitting about doing bits and bobs before I retired. I had just gone back into the kitchen when I heard a huge roar. As I turned John shot out of the bedroom, stark naked, shouting at the top of his voice, IT'S A RAT, IT'S A RAT.
He'd settled down with his book and suddenly felt something on his shoulder. Panic. Panic. Panic.
Anyway it wasn't a rat, it was a bank vole. We found it, eventually, under the bed, scared out of it's wits.
Happy ending. I took it out and returned it to the field. One experience he'll never forget, nor me.
Val