So yesterday I bring the children home for the evening...as kids ALWAYS are, they were ready for a snack just before dinner. A simple traditional American open-faced peanut butter sandwich should do the trick me-thinks. But alas, the bread bag revealed a symmetrical 3/4" hole and 15% reduction in size. Apparently my nemesis from a few weeks ago (he got stuck in the glue trap and I had to back over him with the van) was part of a family...
A family of deaf mice apparently. In an effort to appease my more humane friends (you know who you are) I purchased a set of three of the Sonic Pest Controllers. Enough for 2100 square feet. The first one was placed in the kitchen, within 6 inches of the loaf of bread. I think the appropriate phrase is 'completely ineffective'. Maybe I got the wrong brand.
No more glue traps (last week, in a moment of discovery, my 4 year old Hannah got stuck in the second one). I still have the two traditional snap traps that provide the satisfaction my conscience seems to favor. As soon as dinner was done and the kitchen cleaned (I hate having to clean it before and after dinner - once per meal suits me just fine) I loaded both traps carefully with peanut butter and placed them strategically on the kitchen counter. The counter is where we always encounter them. Yucky.
Sent the kids off with their mom, and sat down to enjoy a movie. My Columbia House DVDs arrived earlier in the week, and I was ready to watch Tombstone (prophetic?). About midway into the movie, there was a snapping sound from the kitchen.
Those of you who know me, know I hate to interrupt a good movie. Tombstone is a good movie (thanks Kevin!). Plus, I didn't know how long any twitching or whatever would go on, so I lost myself again in the world of Wyatt Earp. At the conclusion of the movie, I knew I had to act - some sense of hygiene would not allow me the let things sit until morning. Slowly, I entered the kitchen. I peeked around the corner to find one trap in the open unmolested. As I turned on the light to see the hidden one, I discovered success! - along with a grieving family member who then darted back behind the stove. I always thought those little holes in the electric stove drip pans were to allow excess spillage a place to go. Apparently mice think otherwise.
Well you will all be pleased to know that when I can clearly identify a snapped neck, I need neither tongs nor three blue Wal-Mart bags. One bag and a good washing with antibacterial soap will do.
But still there was another! I moved the trap in to open to the more concealed location (apparently mice prefer eating in an intimate setting) and went to bed.
As I came downstairs this morning, I heard a sort of rattling sound. Peeking around the corner into the kitchen (in case there was a gang of them waiting to attack) I saw my latest adversary sitting on his haunches under the banana rack. In a strong clear voice, I announced my presence and requested his departure. He refused. It was then that I realized the rattling was the trap that was attached to the base of his tail. Apparently he had not been mourning the loss of his family member, but trying to figure out how that contraption worked - mice are brutal and heartless.
A few myths destroyed: 1) They do not scream, but there was a little squeaking that met my expectations of a mouse. 2) When caught in a trap, they do not chew off whatever part is attached to escape. Of course, in this case, he was trapped so close to the base of his tail he would have had to chew the end beyond the trap off, and that would have just pissed him off and made a mess to boot.
So now what to do? I got the tongs out - which he promptly viciously attacked - so I was justified in my caution. Better the tongs than my fingers! Still could not bring myself to destroy him under foot. One friend (you know who you are) suggested a tree, a nail, a BB gun, and 10 paces. A few problems with that: First, no BB gun. Second, the only tree of choice is in the little front yard of my townhouse. And my next-door neighbor does daycare. As this message reveals, I'm a sensitive guy, so I concluded it would be best to avoid the children starting their day with the image of their neighbor shooting a mouse in a trap nailed to a tree.
I resorted to another recommendation (you know who YOU are...) - drowning. It saves a mess and avoids validating the screaming myth. Bad news though - traps float and mice swim. I tried placing a heavier bowl over him, but he could wiggle past it, then the bowl flipped over, giving him the reprieve of an air pocket, which probably would have lasted all day. So I was still reduced to some level of brutality by dunking him down under and having to see him struggle.
How come they have to die with their cute little eyes open? His view of me was certainly already distorted by knowing me just through the death of two of his family members...now he had the additional distortion of looking up through the water. I did turn on the hot and cold, making is close to body temperature. Do you think that comforted him at all?
Life is full of tough choices.
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