It’s cold outside, and every year when it gets cold outside the mice come in. Last night I heard one chewing on something near the wine rack. I have no idea what he was chewing, but it wasn’t a cork. (I checked). So I left my husband a note and went to bed. When he came home from work, read then ignored the note and went to bed.
I made him set 3 traps when he got up – one under the sink, one near the dishwasher and one by the wine rack. Fifteen minutes later I heard a noise in the kitchen. We had our first victim. He disposed of the mouse and reset it, then left for work. A few minutes later we had a second kill and I had to dispose of it and reset the trap. A bit later I heard noise by the wine rack. The mouse wasn’t dead, so I waited. When I went back I saw it was caught by the toes. I opened the back door and set him loose in the cold. (I’m so glad we’re using the easy-to-set traps now – I hate the old spring traps.)
This doesn’t come close to our best night of trapping though. That was some 20 years ago when we lived in an old farm house in Maine. I heard a noise in our second floor bedroom. Phil set a spring trap, loaded with peanut butter, and turned out the light. He’s almost asleep… then SNAP. He got up, disposed of the mouse and set the trap. He turned out the light and doses off. SNAP. This went on for about 2 hours or so and 12 mice lost their lives that night. He set the trap for what he hoped would be the very last time and as soon as the light went out it snapped. It was the smallest mouse I’ve ever seen and only his tail got caught in the trap.
I honestly don’t recall if Phil killed the mouse or set him free, but after sleeping in a room that smelled of peanut butter, I can’t stand the smell of it and very rarely eat it any more. (I have to be really hungry to eat it.)
Update: Mouse #3 has gone to the great beyond this evening.