Discovery

I'm not sure it's a shrew. I'm positive I haven't stopped it, whatever it is. Nothing seems to tempt or satisfy it like the now completely eradicated celeriac, but it continues to appear every single day, nibbling on just enough so I know it is still around, I am still at risk. But I'm not at all sure it's a shrew. I'm just sure that that's a possibility, and that in itself is inordinately comforting. Disturbingly comforting.

I know of the possibility of a shrew because somebody mentioned it and then I googled it and found that, according to Wikipedia, it is a small mammal, not a rodent, which is the size of a mouse or smaller and with a longer nose. The one pictured, also from Wikipedia, is not likely the one I have, if I have one at all, for it only lives in Asia and Europe, supposedly. But shrews in general have characteristics that would lead them to eat all of my celeriac in a couple of days and dig holes around several other things: "In general, shrews are terrestrial creatures that forage for seeds, insects, nuts, worms and a variety of other foods," "They are very active animals, with voracious appetites and unusually high metabolic rates. Shrews must eat 80-90 per cent of their own body weight in food daily." Great. "Female shrews can have up to ten litters a year, and...have a gestation period of 17–32 days." Double great.

I can think of no comparison to my feeling at relief at discovering this probability more apt than being in Mexico City in March of 1995, on my way back from Nicaragua, coinciding with international women's day and the arrival of a caravan from Chiapas to Mexico City. There was an enoromous march. March is inadequate to describe it, it was a congregation of people from the central plaza out for farther than was relevant, on foot or by eye, to measure. This was just after the time that the Mexican army had "discovered" that Commandante Marcos was in fact a German professor. They had sent thousands of troops into the forests of Chiapas, armed with this new information, his birth name and his rough facial description, to find him. In Mexico City the streets were overflowing with signs depicting everyone from ants to Jesus in Marcos' typical ski-mask. "Todos somos Marcos" the signs said, we all chanted. The delusion of the military was highlighted, mocked. As if. As if to know his name was any relevance to finding him in the forest.

I don't mean to belittle the Zapatistas by comparing the violence of my distraction at a potential shrew to the violence of the Mexican government against the indigenous of Mexico, nor to identify with the military in this case. I mean, as usual, to belittle myself, if anyone. And to reminisce on a moment a long time ago in my life that moved me. But mostly to chide myself for my comfort at discovering that there is a thing called a shrew that it would make sense if my ongoing seedling destruction was caused by. There is a thing called a shrew that shrinks the likelihood of my craziness, or of the digging and disappearing of seedlings being a sign of something. There is a thing called a shrew that could do what is being done to my plants, and in fact would likely do just that if given the chance. It still bothers me that I have not caught it, but I feel relieved to know it's potential name. And that relief, I also notice.