My adventure started peacefully enough. Dale and I were sitting next to a placid pond
in the early morning, cameras ready and sketchbook on the dash. The still springtime air was filled with the
“Kaa-leee e” from a few red-winged blackbirds and several coot were bickering over
who had rights to which lady coot. Far
off a sapsucker drummed out his beat.
Life was good, if a little serene.
Suddenly I hear another sound, one all too close – crackling
paper in the back of our car. BUT no one
is in the back of the car. Inside and
out we had the pond to ourselves – we thought!
Then it dawns on us.
There is a mouse in the car … or a RAT.
We were sitting so quietly he decided it was time to rearrange his digs
a little. Drat! What would the little beastie get into? Chew a nest into our cold weather cloths
stored back there? Join us for lunch in
our lunch box? Or, worse yet, add a few
electrical wires to his belongings?
During our lunch break we pull most of our stuff out of the
car. We have jackets piled on top of the
car, boots on the ground, satchels here and there. No sign of the mouse, but he has lots of
places to hide.
Back in town I look for a catch-em-alive mouse trap. Needless to say, I’m hoping it is a mouse,
not a rat. I have to settle for a
package of two snap traps.
I figure our uninvited passenger joined us the day before
when I left the car doors open in a woodsy spot while I was sketching. Or maybe there is a way to get in when all
doors are closed and no telling where we picked him up. I’d rather it be a deer mouse than a house
mouse and certainly want a mouse rather than a rat.
When we get home we take all our cold weather cloths and
food into the house, except for a couple of nuts and an apple core. I don’t want him starving to death in some
hard to reach spot! Towards evening I
bait the two traps with peanut butter and put one on the floor in front where
Dale admitted he’d dropped a few nuts and they have disappeared. The second I put it back near where we heard
him rummaging.
Before bed I go out with my flashlight and peer it. There he is!
A cute little deer mouse with big black eyes. Very much alive. By morning he is still very much live, but
both snap trap triggers are licked clean.
Dastardly little fellow!
Night two: I set the
traps with more care, trying to set a hair trigger. Why is this MY job? Dale puts on a sneaky smerk and says,
“Because you are so good at it!” I established
my reputation several years ago and he has never let me forget it.
The mouse’s nest building is obviously progressing. Our roll of paper towel is now tattered and
torn apart. I leave it hoping it would
keep him from tackling the car seats.
Morning: The little
snip! He licked those snap traps clean
again. I refuse to use those awful
sticky traps. They should be
outlawed. But I really need to do
something. I know he is still in there
somewhere. The apple core disappeared so
has a couple peanuts. He doesn’t like
cashews. I give him another apple
core. We go on a longer shopping
expedition and come home with a $6.99 plastic catch-em-alive mouse trap. Full of hope I set my new trap.
Night three:
Darn! He is a smart little
fella. I actually got up at 3 AM to
check the trap. I was worried the mouse
was caught and might be getting cold. No
such luck. I check it again in the morning. The trap sits there undisturbed, even with
that yummy smear of peanut butter at the back of it.
The next evening I ‘chummed,’ that is a fishing term for
throwing out tid bits of bait, hoping to get the fish to feed. I put three tiny dots of peanut butter near
the trap and hope.
Morning: Success! Mission accomplished! The trap is shut and heavy.
I already have a jar ready and waiting. Dale has punched holes in it; we added a
little food and some paper towel for him to hide in. We have already decided to return him to
where we are quite sure he hopped aboard. I didn’t want him becoming a permanent
resident at home. Perhaps it is a ‘her!”
I don’t need her and ten babies becoming
permanent residents at home!!
A couple of hours later the little mouse is on its way. We unceremoniously dump it out in good
habitat near where we think it hopped aboard.
Once on real ground, off it bounds, right towards a tumbled of old
wood. Boy! That little mouse has quite a story to tell
its friends.
