...on turning her up in her nest with the plough, November 1785

Wee sleeket, cowrin' tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa' sae hasty
Wi' bickerin' brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murderin' pattle!

Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me!
The present only touches thee:
But och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!

for PBasers feeling Lyrical please see HERE

When we trap these delightful little creatures we take them a few hundred yards from home and release them.