DORMOUSE: rural encounter on a freezing day

NOCTURNAL and secretive, the dormouse has always been one of the more difficult creatures of the countryside to spot.

Whenever it does pop into view, its fluffy tail and orangey brown colouring instantly set it apart from other mice.

Nor can it be confused with the larger, grey edible dormouse or 'glis glis' - a squirrel-like creature only introduced to Britain at the turn of the century and now surviving mainly in the Chilterns.

The common dormouse has been a well-established inhabitant of this country for centuries, albeit living mostly in southern hedges and forests. With so many birds and animals eager to snap it up for lunch, it is hardly surprising the dormouse stays well hidden during the day and only ventures out to feed at night.

Then, as it forages for insects, seeds and nuts, its three-inch body is anchored and balanced among branches by that downy tail of almost equal length.

Thorn bushes are a favourite breeding ground during the summer months when the dormouse builds a tightly domed nest and gives birth to a litter of up to seven offspring.

Winter sees it building a nest closer to the ground to hibernate alone, often among tree roots or at the foot of a hedge.

Numbers of dormice are thought to have plummeted of late with the rise of the domestic cat blamed as one cause.

However, our own technological ingenuity has also played a role.

English Nature revealed that mechanical flailing of hedgerows had caused severe problems for dormice.

"Traditionally, hedgerows were managed by hand which had a less dramatic effect on the size and growth of a hedge," explained a spokesman. "Hedges need at least two to three years growth to provide suitable food sources and habitats for dormice.

"Mechanical flailing cuts hedges back hard in the early autumn and reduces the amount of berries available. Dormice need to feed on berries, fruits and nuts in the autumn to fatten up before hibernating."

Whatever the causes of their decline, dormice have now vanished from almost 70 per cent of the hedgerows where they were present only 20 years ago.

I once noticed a solitary dormouse on a stone beneath a hedge while out seeking casual labouring work at local farms when I was a student.

There had been a severe frost the night before and the tiny creature seemed immobilised, virtually frozen in place.

It would have made the perfect snack for any passing weasel or stoat so I carefully picked it up and slipped it into a crevice in a wall.

I hoped this would also give it shelter from the biting spring wind which was whipping across nearby fields.

When I walked past a few minutes later, it was still there.

Its beady little eyes stared at me in the same baleful, fixed way but now its nose was twitching more busily.

I took that as a good sign and walked on.