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Victory over the Voles

The queen of the voles was under pressure from her subjects to make their life more interesting. Cries like, "Let's see more of the earth, we're always stuck down here underground and never get to see nice stuff in the world above", filtered through the never-ending vole tunnels.

Victory over the Voles

The vole queen pondered for a while. By nature she was surprisingly easygoing, not one to court trouble unnecessarily, but she knew that she had to act or face the prospect of a rebellion from some of the more aggressive, younger voles on campus. Clearly this was the direct result of the liberal attitude she had taken to broadening the education of these youngsters!

It was not a tunnel she wished to explore in depth at this time yet she would have to be blind not to see the difficulty arising from her doing nothing. So she decided on a subtle form of defense. (This had better be good, thought Mr. B.)

Taking the vole by the horns she approached the ringleaders of the revolt and suggested that they tackle one clearly defined area of the New World and prove that it could be dominated. If all went well, the beachhead could be extended to encompass even wider domains. (Hmmm, all these metaphors are quite frightening, thought Mr. B.)

This strategy, strangely enough, appealed to the ringleaders who nonetheless argued for quite a while over who was to lead the assault. This took ages as they had just found a rich form of nourishment worthy of considerable further exploration. A mass of new oak trees had been growing unheeded by an Icelandic chap in his garden (his "yard" to our American readers) and the hungry voles were having a ball in the thousand acre oak pasture. Nonetheless they eventually found a suitable leader by a process of eliminating the laziest and they then started making battle plans.

Out of courtesy (and because they were a little afraid of the queen - and who wouldn't be!) they naively took the trouble to inform her of their simple plan. They had not yet discovered the use of strategies, targets and all that other stuff so beloved of long range planners. They did not even appreciate that by utilizing the process of open government, their ambitions were being discussed with someone who knew just how best to scupper their ambitions.

In the world above, a different scenario was unfolding. The voles were beginning to cause havoc to the general landscape. Whereas in the past they had confined their activities to digging up small patches of soft earth in undeveloped areas they had now begun to threaten the livelihood of real estate agents (a.k.a. realtors) by depressing the value of house properties in the general area of said Nordic gent. House prices were plummeting, removal lorries were stationary and appointments were left unfilled as total inertia took over.

Which is where Fredcat came in. Fredcat, as you well know, was a fearless fighter, but he really preferred others to do the dirty work if at all possible (it made life so much easier that way, he feels). He also, fortuitously, lived in the house next door to the burgeoning oak tree plantation and the queen knew this quite well (all part of her plan, you see.)

So, when Fredcat was approached by the queen of the voles, he immediately sought the support of two local henchmen, namely Bjorn and Will. Now these two stout fellows had yet to gain their spurs in battle but they commanded a doughty dog called - of all things - Jesso (where do they get these funny names?). Fortunately, Jesso was a master hunter, if a tad over-enthusiastic when greeting humans, particularly those providing sausages and other forms of grub on demand.

Jesso was promptly put to work rooting out the ring-leaders of the voles. Frankly it was not much of a fight since voles are not overly given to combat, preferring a bit of quiet rooting about under the soil. As the ringleaders were rounded up, Fredcat was on hand to have a little chat with them. After they has all partaken in a little game of "throwing-the-vole-in-the-air". As it turned out, said voles were not overly keen with life above ground, particularly those being forced into football-like behavior, and as soon as the sunlight hit their eyes they realised that they were better off underground, deep underground to be precise.

They stopped their little games, scurried back to the vole realm and stayed hidden for ages. House prices rose again, the brave dog left for pastures much greener and renewed his search from his new home base for anything more interesting than voles.

Mr. B. was unimpressed with this tale. He openly wondered whether Fredcat was becoming forgetful and uneconomical with the truth in his old age. Fredcat would have none of it. "My mistress Cathie knows that I am only five years old", he said, haughtily. "Oh yes, and the rest", scoffed Mr. B.

"Well", said Fredcat, "You would not want your property values to drop because I was lax in my hunting down of those vicious voles who were making a mess of your front lawn, would you?", he challenged.

"I am not sure about that", said Mr. B. "and, frankly, I don't believe a word of all this!" Do you, gentle reader?