I owe this one to Tamara, who spotted the pink one clambering in to get its spot. It pushed its way in forcibly, no timorous beastie, and settled in.
Timorous beastie – from a line from the Robert Burns’ poem: To a Mouse: on Turning Her Up in Her Nest With the Plough.
Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie,
O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi’ bickerin brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee
Wi’ murd’ring pattle!