That's quite a spoil heap. Our two Springers are drawn straight to it, whenever we open the back door - sniff, sniff, sniff - and that rose hip in the hole confirms there's an internal residence.
I'm guessing it's your common woodmouse, and I'm also guessing that he/she has brought a few familial companions with them, which means our own home is about to be over-run with the little blighters once more (It comes with territory, I'm afraid). But I'd love to know exactly who or what it is, and have taken to leaping out in to the dark each night, with my trusty flashlight ready to blind the culprit(s), mid-nibble. But all to no avail, thus far.
Actually, this visitation is quite timely, as I've now entered the final third of my first BLIP book, and my thoughts are turning towards the next adventure. There's going to be a lot more flora and fauna on show in that one, and juxtapositioning of size and scale... but I'll save the detail for another day...
Meanwhile, there's our own little visitor to ponder once more. And sniff.