Summer 2003. We are at our house in the middle of France, or rather: in the middle of nowhere. It’s very hot, so we prefer to sit in the shade. Pleasantly doing nothing is nice for a while, but eventually.... understandable that we get excited about every cow that passes by. Or, even better, a great bull. You should see us when a large deer leaps across the road! Everything that moves is interesting. At a safe distance, mind. After all, we are city folk.

But then one evening we suddenly hear squeaking sounds in the garden. Torches in hand, in search of adventure, off we go. There’s something rummaging about near the front door. What on earth can it be?  ->