One mist-soaked morning, when the fog curled low like sleepy cats, Gentle Mike invited Sir Bill on a “quiet reconnaissance mission” to the far hedgerow. “ Just a little stroll,” he promised. But with Mike, strolls have a way of becoming quests. As they padded near the old fallen log, a deep hrrmph rumbled from within. Sir Bill froze. Gentle Mike froze. Even the fog froze. Then—out popped a very wide, very rumpled, very awake badger who clearly did not appreciate early visi
.jpg)
