“Occasionally, a few mice” is what the former owner wrote on the disclosure forms when we were buying this house.
He was right, except for the “occasional” part.
And the “few” part.
Sometimes, I’m not sure what is louder, the braying or the squeaking.
When I was married, my husband would set out old-fashioned snap traps and dispose of the brittle remains, something I cannot bring myself to do.
So later, a friend gave me a Tin Cat, a wonderfully humane device. It’s a tin box with spring doors. The mice go in and dine on whatever snack you’ve left them and then have a nice nap until you arrive and relocate them. This works great until January, when a softie like me can’t bear to put a mouse out in the snow.
Yeah, I know, it’s a character flaw.
I understand completely that anyone who picks up half-dead baby mice from the yard and feeds them with an eyedropper in a predictably futile attempt to keep them alive needs psychological help.
If you ever try this at home, you should know that baby mice need their bottoms stroked every couple of hours to stimulate a bowel movement.
Not that I’ve done this or anything.
Anyway. Of course lunatics like me won’t put cute, warm, household mice outside in a raging blizzard. So in the winter, I take them out to the barn.
Which would be fine if we had barn cats, only ours are in the house, because I don’t want them to be cold either.
So now, in addition to running a donkey resort, we’re running a mouse restaurant.
This particular idiocy started the day I went out to the barn to find the mice had been eating the saddle soap. I figured they must be starving to do that, and maybe if I threw a few sunflower seeds on the ground, they wouldn’t eat the electrical wiring and tack cleaner.
So now, after feeding the donkeys, we put down a little something for the mice, and for the chipmunk who nests in the sawdust . They have a fine and varied diet, and we’re learning a lot about the culinary habits of rodents. They don’t care much for watermelon, but they’re wild about day-old grits.
One day, I know I will have to leave this home that I so love, and I’ll have to fill out a disclosure form for the buyer.
“Occasionally, a few mice,” I will write. “They expect dinner a little before 9.”
7 thoughts on “Mice capades”
Jennifer, your muse has reclaimed your soul…You are on a roll. Love this so much. Love the compassion that combines with the wit. Perfect combination. Perfect you, revealed.
My mice condo has become overcrowded! So, once the babies have grown, I’ll be moving them out move out while the weather is nice. Glad to know there is fellow “lunatic” around.
I’ve read somewhere that you need to move them at least a mile away or else they’ll find their way “home”….
Brian White of Pro Tech Worcester, best in pest control in the area! -not likely to encourage you to leave food out for them though.. I am with you on the inability to kill them. Kinda cute, but you just can’t have them munching away in your domicile.
Just please don’t tell me you also get sentimental about those “palmetto bugs” (correct name: massive roaches from hell) that roll into our summer rentals at the South Carolina beach right around sundown!
No worries. I kill ’em. But swiftly…. the rule in my house is that we don’t let anything suffer.
Okay, just to make us all feel better, here’s someone even more zealous than me:
I love this woman, Christa. She’s our tribe.