Destruction

There were two sets of them...they seem to propel around the property with abandon.
Two sets of Large Moving Legs were ducking under branches of the lilac bush.
The accompanying Reaching Hands grasped rocks, large and small, and threw them into a machine.
The rocks were flat, some mossy, some partially dirt-covered.
The Reaching Hands didn't seem to care.
They just grabbed and threw, with loud metallic noises.
The home of the tiniest mammal was in danger of being destroyed.
All he could do was cower in his hole beneath the rocks and hope.
Rocks rubbed against rocks.
The noise at times was deafening to the little rodent.
He was so frightened, but there was nothing he could do.
His only salvation was that he was not observed.
His home up until now had been his castle, unmolested by any outsiders.

After the giants had left, he cautiously surveyed his territory.
His sunning rock was gone.
His porch roof that protected him from the rain was gone.
But...his cozy nest, being farther below the ground and close to a buried rock, was still intact.
He quickly made the necessary changes in his established routine and went looking for dinner.