About 40 years ago I was the new, incoming Captain of a rifle club in the Blue Mountains and when it was brought to my attention that certain work needed doing, a working bee was called for.
Many weekends of improvements, repairs and good deeds were performed but one incident has stood out in my mind and it involved the cleaning out of the target shed, which was home to a multitude of Mice.
As I recall, one man was already busily engaged in the shed, when I decided to send a couple more to assist. As the pair drew near, a shout came from the man within. I looked up to see a horde of of mice appear magically outside the shed, running en masse for all they were worth, for one poor blokes trousered leg.
I have that sight in my mind still and have often wondered, when reminded, how I would have reacted if the trousered leg had been mine.
