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I've written far too often here about mice and the need to catch them. And more than once I've alluded to a mouse story that took place one girls' weekend when I was with my mom and my sisters. Now it's time to tell the story.
Girls Weekend 2002. We rented a cabin in Wisconsin so we could go the Cranberry Festival. I know it sounds hokey, but we had a good time. What's not to like about a festival where you can shop and eat elephant ears?
Anyway, it was late fall, and when we got to our pretty basic cabin in the woods, our hostess informed us that the last occupants had complained about mice.
She casually said they hadn't caught the rodents yet, then brought in a large plastic garbage can and a six-foot 2x4. She tossed a handful of sunflower seeds in the bottom of the garbage can and very casually told us it was the best mouse trap ever. All we had to do was put the garbage can in the middle of the room at night and set the board up so the mice could run up to the garbage can. According to our charming hostess, the mice would smell the seeds, run up the board, fall into the garbage can and not be able to get out.
I think we made a pretty good show of not looking horrified or falling to the ground laughing. But the minute our "hostess" left, we immediately put the can and the 2x4 out on the back porch.
Can you imagine listening all night to a mouse scrabbling around inside that plastic garbage can all night?
We eased our heebie jeebies with a couple bottles of wine.
Seriously the worst hospitality EVER.
© Trippin' Mama 2012
If you've been reading for any length of time, you know I've had more than one run-in with rodents. There was the dust-bunny mouse, the "welcome to your cabin" mouse (a story I still need to tell), and last year's dead squirrel in the leaf pile. Oh, and the bat we caught in our first house. I need to share that story too, since I know you only come here for my epic battles with rodentia.
So yesterday when I found mouse poop in the basement, I immediately got the heebie jeebies. Jeff baited the traps and this morning I ventured down to throw some laundry in, prepared to see a mouse dead in one of the two traps.
Instead, both traps were missing.
Um...what the?
I texted Jeff: "Where did you set the mouse traps?"
He responded: "In the usual places."
I texted back: "They are both missing. Have I mentioned recently how glad I am that you're the boy?"
Hunting for a mouse half dead in a trap it has dragged into a corner is DEFINITELY a boy job.
When Jeff got home he informed me it wasn't a job he was too thrilled about either. I informed him that I gave birth to four children--girl job. Half dead mouse--boy job. That's tough to argue with.
He looked around a bit and found one empty trap. Then he came upstairs with the news that when he shined his flashlight between the boxes under the stairs he could hear the mouse rattling a trap.
"I birthed your children," I responded.
Then I started to wonder just how big this bleeping mouse was to get caught in the trap, drag it all the way under the stairs and still be alive?
Jeff took care of the bugger, and he was apparently pretty big, since he had his HEAD caught in the trap (and not a humane trap, sorry folks) and it didn't kill him.
More heebie jeebies.
We caught a second, smaller mouse tonight, and Jeff will be outside with the caulk tomorrow.
Here's hoping I won't have to play the birth card too many more times.
© Trippin' Mama 2011
