Peter was feeling frisky. An early morning jog over to Farmer Smiths carrot plot should do the trick he said to himself as he clambered out of his burrow and scampered across the field to the wire fence. Looking around he checked that no long nosed shotgun barrel was aimed in his direction before moving aside the hedgerow that hid the gap in the fence. Clambering under he reached row upon row of tasseled carrot tops just waiting to be eaten, perhaps I’ll take a few home for Mom too he said to himself in a moment of generosity. Standing up on his hind legs he once more took a good look all around and satisfied that he was undetected he ate and ate and ate until he fell over in exhaustion and promptly fell asleep in the morning sunlight. Hours passed, the sun set behind the barn off in the distance. Peter slept on and on, it wasn’t until the moon was high in the sky that he awoke having heard the rustle of bushes and the squeak of the gate, a shotgun went off, a bullet singed his fur, he ran off squealing deep into the undergrowth until he arrived at his burrow. Ha,ha he thought as he scrambled below into the darkness.