If a mushroom can grow from sh*t, so can you

With snow still thick on the ground Cricket kinda knew she would be pushing shit uphill to find what she was after, or so she thought. Sticking her head down some rabbit burrows told her this was the right sort of soil, and when she'd found what she was looking for before, it had been in an area dotted with Willows too. Maybe there was some similarity in what they needed to make them sprout? or spore or whatever it was that made mushrooms grow.

The green creature travelled with her characteristic jerky movements. A freeze, a twitch and a lightning fast scurry, only to do it all over again. She stuck her head into badger sets, careful not to wake the snoozing occupants, inside tree hollows and bird nests, anywhere at all that might offer her some reprieve from the freezing snow while still providing the damp conditions the red and white spotted mushrooms needed to thrive. On this particular occasion, the owner of the nest was home and not pleased to have a predators head upsetting her late winter preparations for the nesting season.

A cacophony of beating wings and bird shrieks were punctuated by yelled curses as Cricket backpedaled and fell off the branch she had been balanced on. Her head was pecked and her fur was pulled. She snapped her teeth in a threatening fashion, down lining from the nest clinging to her muzzle and small feathers decorating her face. “I don't wan'yer lousy fuckin' eggs, I'm just lookin' fer some mushrooms yer twat!” She yelled at the bird as if it could possibly understand what she was saying. With a snarl and a grumble she moved to the next promising site, a patch of bare earth beneath some bushes. Maybe she'd have more luck over there.

“Speech”