GAYS MILLS - Seeds and nuts have become abundant on the ground and at my house that means one thing. The war against the rodents has begun.
It seems that ever since we moved into our funny little house we’ve battled Mother Nature in some way. Luckily, for us, that hasn't been in the form of water. Often when news of the flooding reaches others, we get calls and texts asking “are you okay!?” To which I always respond, “Yes, if we got floodwater at our house, there would be much bigger problems going on.”
Our battles with Mother Nature have ranged from aggressive mug wort and burdock to snakes and crickets. While, over time we’ve seemed to settle most of those issues down to a dull roar, the age old battle of ‘Human verses Rodent’ rages on.
Our house isn’t as tight as we would like and our resident cat really isn’t as active as he should be. We live in a little nook, surrounded by trees that offer an abundance of nutty treats. So, the combination of these things has led to some interesting discoveries at times.
Just this past Sunday, we engaged in our usual ‘let’s spend the day cleaning up last week’s mess.’ We milled around the house picking up this and putting away that. For me, this included finally unpacking the suitcase I took on my ‘Mom-cation.’ There were a few items left, some leggings, a deflated beach ball (you never know when you might need one of those!), and a few shirts. The unexpected bonus items included deposits from some of our resident mice in the form of unfamiliar seeds, acorns, and a small pile of hickory nuts. I sighed as I heaved the suitcase over the garbage can to shake out the stash.
I was also left to let my imagination run wild, trying to picture the tiny little mice I’ve seen scurrying about and caught in the traps, tirelessly dragging these rather large hickory nuts and acorns around my house, scaling over obstacles and avoiding detection. I like to continue to believe that it is in fact, tiny little mice doing this, perhaps just freakishly strong ones. And not the alternative of big, yucky rats meandering about my house in the dead of night, threatening to carry my baby away next as punishment for me clean sweeping their winter food stash.
I’ve tried several different kinds of methods to seek and destroy the little critters. I realized when I first moved in that, I at the time being 27, didn’t even know how to set a damn mouse trap! Although it certainly wasn’t my first encounter with mice, I apparently had been spared the duties of dispatching them. I tend to steer away from the harsh sticky traps or dangerous poison. My mice don’t seem to fancy cheese or peanut butter either. However, they have acquired a taste for Organic Valley Artisan Pasture Butter-the expensive stuff. If anyone else out there is struggling with the same problem I am, I suggest getting your paws on a stick of that stuff. Works (nearly) every time.
“We need to set the traps on the mouse super highway,” I informed Chasca, who was stationed at the sink rinsing his cast iron pans.
“You’ll have to get the traps out of my truck, I had to set a couple in there because they tried stashing nuts and chewing on my seats,” he responded in a slightly annoyed tone, likely recalling previous mouse nests and destruction he has encountered.
After tidying up my closet and finding yet more acorns, hickory nuts and even some long grain white rice (Basmati perhaps?) in my slipper, I decided to set a vast array of traps. All of which were completely untouched this morning. I like to think the little furry creeps moved on to another nesting ground. Deeming our house barren of treats after everything was put up in glass jars. And perhaps even too cold for their liking, because even though we moved more wood in a day that I have in my life, it’s still too early to fire up the stove. So we just shake the rice out of our slippers and shuffle on to another day. I know this isn’t the case, but a girl can dream right?Tonight, I’ll make another attempt at victory against the house mouse. After everyone has gone to bed, I’m sure I’ll be up and about, doin’ my mom thing. Setting my teeny tiny traps, slathered with butter, whilst drinking a beer, watching some kind of TV only I enjoy and waiting in peace for the abrupt SNAP of the trap. The glamour of country livin’ indeed!