Sunday, October 27, 2013
I am become death. The mad poisoner.
One of the bad things about living in an old house is that it's holier than swiss cheese and impossible to block all the holes. The Victorian's actually built their houses to "breathe" because of their use of indoor fireplaces, gas lamps, etc.
So, every fall, this little guy and what seem like 50 of his cousins try to find sanctuary against the coming cold by wiggling their way into our house. Our 2nd floor office must be on the official Mouse Travel Guide, because that's where they end up. Presumably, that's because that's where the dog food is. What puzzles me is that they never end up in the kitchen, which is right below there. But, in the office, there are lots of nooks and crannies to hide in and the food is always at the right height for a mouse (on the floor).
And so, every fall, I wage a war against these illegal aliens. Poison is my weapon of choice because they take it back and share it with their friends and the war is over quickly. For some reason, they like to die in the open (making a run for it, maybe?), which is good because I really don't want to smell dead mouse in the walls. The only gotcha is that we have to watch for the bodies so that the dogs don't "play" with them.
While I know some people are going to be upset with me for posting this and say things like "Oh, he's so cute. Why don't you use a humane trap and put him outside?" or "How can you post such a garish thing as a dead mouse on your blog?" Let me just say.... I do feel very conflicted because I actually find mice to be quite charming and, as they are small, furry and cute, my first reaction is to pick them up and pet them. I mean, look at those adorable whiskers on the mouse above. I find myself making up little stories about their lives and where they've been. (Okay, maybe not...)
The thing is: they don't belong in my house and, by crossing the threshold, they have sealed their own fates. Sticky glue traps are just as inhumane, as they die slowly through starvation. Is snapping their little necks any better? And catching them and putting them outside only insures they will either come back into my house or someone else's. Did I mention they're dirty little creatures that normally carry some kind of disease?
So, Mr. Mouse, while you are absolutely adorable in your little toilet paper sleeping bag, you and your friends have got to go. That includes your 7 distant cousins I found living in my chicken coop. Consider yourself evicted.
I've shared this post with Camera Critters. The rules didn't say anything about no dead critters, so I hope they're not mad!