The Muridae, or murids, are the largest family of rodents and indeed of mammals, containing over 700 species found naturally throughout Eurasia, Africa, and Australia.
The name Muridae comes from the Latin mus (genitive muris), meaning "mouse".
Murids are found nearly everywhere in the world, though many subfamilies have narrower ranges. Murids are not found in Antarctica or many Oceanic Islands. A few species, notably the house mouse and black rat have been introduced worldwide. Murids occupy a broad range of ecosystems from tropical forests to tundras. There are fossorial, arboreal, and semi-aquatic murid species, though most are terrestrial. The extensive list of niches filled by murids helps to explain their relative abundance.
There are a broad range of feeding habits found in murids, ranging from herbivorous and omnivorous species to specialists who consume strictly earthworms, certain species of fungi, or aquatic insects. Most genera consume plant matter and small invertebrates, often storing seeds and other plant matter for winter consumption. Murids have sciurognathous jaws and a diastema is present. Murids lack canines and premolars. There are generally three molars (though sometimes only one or two) and the nature of the molars varies by genera and feeding habits.
Mademoiselle remembers too well
How once she was belle of the ball
Now the past she sadly recalls.
Mademoiselle lived in grand hotels
Ordered clothes by Chanel and Dior
Millionaires queued at her door.
Oh, she pleased them and teased them
She hooked them and squeezed them
Until like their empires they'd fall
She very soon learned
That the more love she spurned
The more power she yearned
Until she was belle of the ball.
Oh, Mademoiselle, such a soft machiavel
Would play bagatelle with the hearts of young men as
they fell
Mademoiselle would hide in her shell
Could then turn cast a spell on any girl
That got in her way.
She would crave all attention
Men would flock to her side
Woe betide any man who ignored
For she'd feign such affection
Then break down their pretension
When she'd won she would turn away.
Turn away, thoroughly bored.
Mademoiselle, long ago said farewell
To any love left to sell, for the sake of being belle
of the ball
Mademoiselle knows there's no way to quell
Her own private hell, just a shell,
With no heart left at all.
Poor old Mademoiselle.