“What’s Grace after?” The Preacher pointed at the cat, toying with something alive near the woodpile. A small body catapulted into the air and landed on the grass, only to be batted into orbit once more.
“A frog, I think.” I went over to see. Rather than the brown amphibian I expected, I found a thumb-sized, long-clawed critter with velvety brownish fur and a nose a bit like mine. Prominent.
“Nope, Hon. It’s a baby mole.” For a week or more, mounds had appeared in our front yard. A mole, I’d assumed. Barely an hour earlier, I’d set a trap, hoping to catch it.
“Go for it, Grace Cat,” I said. The cat continued – until the little animal changed the game. Instead of trying to escape, it went on the defensive, springing several times its own height, straight into the cat’s face. Grace stopped and stared, looking as puzzled as I felt. A baby mole with attitude?
The peppery creature sat still, glaring at Grace. Not wanting to encourage the development of another generation of mound-makers, I removed my rubber garden shoe and finished it with a firm whack.
Minutes later, the trap I had set out front snapped. Inside, I found not a mole, but a well-fed pocket gopher. Only later, comparing pictures online, did I realize that the thing I’d killed with my shoe was not a baby mole, but a fully grown pygmy shrew.
No wonder it attacked the cat. Though the species contain the world’s smallest mammals (some weigh less than a penny), shrews have big attitude. Mostly they live quietly, but when needed, they have all they need to put up a good defense. Among the many shrew species, three, all found in North America, have something no other mammal has: a venomous bite that will paralyze rodents many times its size, though harmless to humans.
I regret killing the shrew. The wee mammals can eat the equivalent of their own body weight in grubs and nuisance insects daily. Had I let it live, my yard may have a few less pests.
The word shrew has a double meaning. Its Middle English form, “shrewe,” defined both the miniature mammal and an ill-tempered, scolding human (usually female) – the kind of woman that inspired Shakespeare to write the play The Taming of the Shrew.
But perhaps shrews have gotten bad press. Twice now, I’ve seen how valiantly they stand up to an enemy. Though tiny, God gave them the ability and the tools to be bold when faced with much larger foes.
He does the same for Christ-followers. When our faith is attacked, and we’re tempted to give up, God’s word reminds us (often) that he provides us with a mighty power – Christ within. “Resist the devil, and he will flee,” the book of James says, adding these reassuring words, “Draw near to God and he will come near to you.”
Fellow believers, when facing opposition, we have every reason to be bold. Go ahead. Act like a shrew.
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Out of interest, I searched shrews on YouTube and happened upon this little video, which shows a captive pygmy shrew, in case you’ve never seen one. The person who owned it found it in the wild in winter, and kept it until it died eight months later. I wouldn’t try this at home…shrews take a specialized diet and eat at least their own weight in bugs and grubs daily.