292. Culprit identified

 The evening is warm. We sit outside under the stars drinking and eating the cute canapés I have prepared. We are an awfully noisy bunch and I think my little furry pals are going to be scared away. In the tiny village the sounds of our voices rise in the cool summer night. The conversations are lively and the stories so funny I want to steal them for my blog. 

The noise level only quiets down when everyone tucks into a new food or when everyone gets a refill and therefore a sip.

'This Auvergne rosé is definitely interesting. So much more character than the Anjou or Provence ones. I love the tang in it.'

'Oh! I love this! What a good idea to mix local cheese with English pickle!'

Yum yum. Chomp chomp. Slurp slurp.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeek.

'Here's my little friend!' I say casually. Everyone stops and looks at me. Half of them are impressed by my being so cool ands brave, the other half interested. 

Eeeeeeeeeeeek.

People can hear the sound and can notice it is coming from very near the table we are gathered around. I see one of my guests gets up and walks up to where the eeeeeeeeeeeek is coming from. I can see him walking up and down probably trying to locate the animal. I do not pay too much attention as I have been outside many nights trying to spot them and have failed. And the conversation has already bounced back. I am now the centre of attention. How can you stay here all alone? I would be terrified!

Eeeeeeeeeeeeek.

'It's up there. Come and see.'

We all get up to where our friend is standing under the vine.

'Look! Up there in the vine. It's eating the grapes.'

Nicolas aims his torch at the gutter and a few guests do the same. The little animal up there is still, as a child caught red-handed stealing a cookie from the jar. 

Everyone is now screaming in amazement, admiring the little ball of fur and commenting on how cute it looks. The little thing steals an other grape and quickly disappears under the eaves.

We all go back to our drinks and continue the conversation. I am not the center of attention anymore. It is all about how cute the little animal is and could I ever want to catch it in my horrible trap.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeek. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeek.

The sound comes from the other end of the building now. Nicolas is still listening and watching. The animal has gone inside the attic and is not going to come back out under the spotlights.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeek. Rattle. Rattle.

'Come and see. There's an other one up there. In fact there's two of them.'

We all stand up again and torches are again pointed towards the gutter. There are indeed two of them watching us and one is moving its head as if to say no no no we are not giving you a show. 

'They are dormice. And you've got a family up there. Mum and dad and the kids.'

If I catch one in my stupid medieval trap and drive it away not only I won't get peace but I would be separating a member from its family. That would be so cruel. And just for a quiet night! When I am on a two-month bliss holidaying in the country. 

'I'll get rid of the trap. Catching one and driving it a few miles from here is a pointless exercice.'

Everyone agrees and is back at admitting my courage and the nobleness of my character. Anyway these dormice (they are dormice now, Nicolas is certain) are far too clever to get into this cage just for a tasteless apple from the supermarket. They prefer the grapes they can eat directly from the vine. They go for the locally produced, in season type of food. Not just cute, but clever also. I am impressed by them but I am also impressed by Nicolas and the way he seemed to be able to ask the animals to show themselves to us.