At a snail's pace

We've been moving in slow motion lately, not sure why. Maybe it's to soak up what warmth we can this week. The weather's changing. Would that the climate of the country really were.
We watched an old episode of "The Crocodile Hunter", Steve and Terry Irwin's show. The theme was invasive animal species, which seem to go bonkers in Australia. One bit had them in a grain storage building, which had, literally, close to a million mice infesting it. They were teeming, and giving new horror to the word. The Irwins were scooping up the little critters, any one of which could have been deemed "cute" by itself, by the handsful, bucketful, sackful, to show how difficult it was going to be to clear them out. His wife, usually so cheerful and brave, looked as if her skin were crawling, which it may have been, for at one point she had a mouse or two under her shirt. Even a big carpet python they brought in to do some hunting freaked out, and slithered away. Irwin claimed that mice in those numbers will go after live pigs.
We saw another nature program about orcas, also known as killer whales. Our cat, a black and white short hair, sat on my mother's lap and watched the orcas intently. We wondered if he thought they were relatives of his, owing to their similar coloration. He probably would have been horrified at the sight of the endless, boiling streams of mice in the previous program.