Once, on vacation, I turned the TV on and there was a “educational” show on about carniverous mice, that not only ate other mice, but scorpions and spiders as well.
Mind you, this show was to Nova, what National Enquirer is to your local daily newspaper. The scene I remember best was a slow motion shot of a mouse howling at the moon.
Yes, the “grasshopper mouse”. They live in the American Southwest, and appear (from what slight acquaintance I have the animal), to have taken over the ecological role of the shrew.
Not really.
They do emit a high-pitched whistle, which probably serves as a territorial warning (like many bird songs). I suppose that one could argue that, if a grasshopper mouse were the size of a gray wolf, that that whistle would be a howl. Frankly, though, it’s not a line of argument that I’d care to defend. Not without a half-dozen shots of good bourbon in me, anyway.
“Kings die, and leave their crowns to their sons. Shmuel HaKatan took all the treasures in the world, and went away.”