Of Mice and Women
We have mice in our house. They appeared as soon as the weather turned cold. My uncle accused me of bringing them with me from Arizona.
I bought some simple snap shut mousetraps. The "gluetrap" ones seem unusually cruel to me, since the mouse gets stucks and then...? Slowly starves to death? Waits until you smash it with a shovel?
Poison was also recommended, but I once watched a rat die from rat poison while on vacation in Patagonia, AZ. It was the most disturbing and heartrending thing I had ever seen. The rat tried to walk, but would be violently jerked in huge waves of spasms that would sometimes fling it into the porch wall or over a bucket. Its face looked confused and contorted when the spasms hit. Finally, as it escaped, convulsing, towards an opening in the fence, the rat was seized again and his body was flung involuntarily through the opening. It would have been funny, had I not seen the rat poison box sitting near the door and realized the animal was being poisoned to death before my eyes.
I didn't want to use poison for these mice. Anyway, they would eat the poison, then go off to die, so how would we find their decaying body later?
In Tucson, I tried a live, "humane" trap that my friend let me borrow. She had used it to catch 5-7 mice in her house and then proceeded to let them go free in an alley in her neighborhood. All well and good for the mice, but not for her neighbors. The live traps didn't work for me. Mostly because later I found out it was a RAT which was living in my neighbor's wall and not mine. (It climbed up his bedsheets in the middle of the night.) I heard him scream bloody murder through our adjacent wall.
The snap shut kind are not only economical, but highly effective. The same design has been used forever. In the Medieval Home book I wrote about a week ago, the husband described a similar method for catching medieval mice.
If the creatures must die, I say, let it be with as little suffering as possible, as quickly as possible.
Pam and I baited the traps with sunflower seed butter (like peanut butter but yummier and easier on my stomach) and then affixed a quarter size piece of cheddar cheese to the goo. No mouse could refuse such a meal!
We had tried the sunflower butter only at first, but the mice just obligingly licked the traps clean without setting them off. I figured they could easily remove the cheese as well, so that is why I decided to "glue" the cheese on with the goo. My theory was that the mouse would have to apply more pressure to the trap trying to pull the cheese off.
My theory proved correct.
The first mouse we caught was dead in a snap. Pardon the pun. Its head/face was pinned under the bar. Thankfully, there were no guts showing. Death was obviously swift, and even though Pam and I were bemoaning the death of the tiny creature, we were glad they were finally taking the bait. Pam was more composed to pick up the trap and throw it away, dead mouse body and all. Both of us went to bed sad.
We heard the second snap this evening. Pam emerged from the basement. I emerged from the dining room. We met at the top of the basement stairs where the trap is set. Nervous, we grabbed the flashlight.
Pam groaned, "Oh no! It's not dead!"
I looked where she pointed the light and saw that the tiny mouse was held in the trap by one tiny pink paw.
With a half wail I said, "It's in PAIN! What do we DOOOO!!??"
We both determined to transfer the mouse outside, remove its foot from the trap, and decide there. I took a folded white paper bag, gingerly lifted the trap so as not to wrench the mouse's leg and placed it, mouse and trap onto the bag. Pam followed me outside with the flashlight. When outside, I put the bag on the driveway, then bent to take the trap with my fingers and pry the bar open with a fork until the mouse's foot was free. Pam shined the light on the process.
The mouse lay there panting heavily and when I removed the trap, it used a free arm and reached over toward his hurt one, like we grasp a hurting limb.
Pam and I cried out together, "No! He's suffering!"
"I can't bear to see it like this," I said as I looked down on the teeny body. His sides moved rapidly up and down as if in intense pain and terror.
"We have to put it out of its misery," said Pam as she leaned in with the flashlight. "I can't watch it die slowly."
"Me neither, but there's no WAY I am going to hit it with a shovel!" I bent closer to look at the mouse's face. The pinkness of its mouth appeared soft and cute against the gray fur. Normally I would be rescuing a creature like this and nurturing it back to health. Instead, I was partly responsible for its current misery and was planning its subsequent demise. As Pam moved the light a bit, my eye caught something that made me do a double take.
There, on the mouse's cheek, under and to the side of his eye, was a tiny glint of something shiny.
I straightened up with a jerk and bawled, "HE'S CRRRYYYIINNGG!!!"
Pam quickly looked, saw the tear, and then we both raised our heads to the sky and wailed miserably.
Both of us saw it. We would not lie about such things.
Finally, Pam said, "I think we just need to move it to the back of the yard and leave it there for nature to decide. Maybe a bird will eat it."
I agreed. I knew neither of us wanted to deal the final blow and yet, we didn't want to watch it slowly die either. Pam moved the mouse and lay it under the pine tree. We went inside and parted ways. As I continuted watching my documentary movie about Mark Twain, I couldn't stop thinking about the poor mouse and the fact that he was probably dying of cold under the pine tree since he was incapacitated.
Death by hypothermia.
Pam came up later and admitted that she too, could not stop thinking about the dying mouse.
Still, out of necessity, I set the trap again and prayed death would come quickly for its next victim. I don't think Pam and I can handle another sufferer.
I bought some simple snap shut mousetraps. The "gluetrap" ones seem unusually cruel to me, since the mouse gets stucks and then...? Slowly starves to death? Waits until you smash it with a shovel?
Poison was also recommended, but I once watched a rat die from rat poison while on vacation in Patagonia, AZ. It was the most disturbing and heartrending thing I had ever seen. The rat tried to walk, but would be violently jerked in huge waves of spasms that would sometimes fling it into the porch wall or over a bucket. Its face looked confused and contorted when the spasms hit. Finally, as it escaped, convulsing, towards an opening in the fence, the rat was seized again and his body was flung involuntarily through the opening. It would have been funny, had I not seen the rat poison box sitting near the door and realized the animal was being poisoned to death before my eyes.
I didn't want to use poison for these mice. Anyway, they would eat the poison, then go off to die, so how would we find their decaying body later?
In Tucson, I tried a live, "humane" trap that my friend let me borrow. She had used it to catch 5-7 mice in her house and then proceeded to let them go free in an alley in her neighborhood. All well and good for the mice, but not for her neighbors. The live traps didn't work for me. Mostly because later I found out it was a RAT which was living in my neighbor's wall and not mine. (It climbed up his bedsheets in the middle of the night.) I heard him scream bloody murder through our adjacent wall.
The snap shut kind are not only economical, but highly effective. The same design has been used forever. In the Medieval Home book I wrote about a week ago, the husband described a similar method for catching medieval mice.
If the creatures must die, I say, let it be with as little suffering as possible, as quickly as possible.
Pam and I baited the traps with sunflower seed butter (like peanut butter but yummier and easier on my stomach) and then affixed a quarter size piece of cheddar cheese to the goo. No mouse could refuse such a meal!
We had tried the sunflower butter only at first, but the mice just obligingly licked the traps clean without setting them off. I figured they could easily remove the cheese as well, so that is why I decided to "glue" the cheese on with the goo. My theory was that the mouse would have to apply more pressure to the trap trying to pull the cheese off.
My theory proved correct.
The first mouse we caught was dead in a snap. Pardon the pun. Its head/face was pinned under the bar. Thankfully, there were no guts showing. Death was obviously swift, and even though Pam and I were bemoaning the death of the tiny creature, we were glad they were finally taking the bait. Pam was more composed to pick up the trap and throw it away, dead mouse body and all. Both of us went to bed sad.
We heard the second snap this evening. Pam emerged from the basement. I emerged from the dining room. We met at the top of the basement stairs where the trap is set. Nervous, we grabbed the flashlight.
Pam groaned, "Oh no! It's not dead!"
I looked where she pointed the light and saw that the tiny mouse was held in the trap by one tiny pink paw.
With a half wail I said, "It's in PAIN! What do we DOOOO!!??"
We both determined to transfer the mouse outside, remove its foot from the trap, and decide there. I took a folded white paper bag, gingerly lifted the trap so as not to wrench the mouse's leg and placed it, mouse and trap onto the bag. Pam followed me outside with the flashlight. When outside, I put the bag on the driveway, then bent to take the trap with my fingers and pry the bar open with a fork until the mouse's foot was free. Pam shined the light on the process.
The mouse lay there panting heavily and when I removed the trap, it used a free arm and reached over toward his hurt one, like we grasp a hurting limb.
Pam and I cried out together, "No! He's suffering!"
"I can't bear to see it like this," I said as I looked down on the teeny body. His sides moved rapidly up and down as if in intense pain and terror.
"We have to put it out of its misery," said Pam as she leaned in with the flashlight. "I can't watch it die slowly."
"Me neither, but there's no WAY I am going to hit it with a shovel!" I bent closer to look at the mouse's face. The pinkness of its mouth appeared soft and cute against the gray fur. Normally I would be rescuing a creature like this and nurturing it back to health. Instead, I was partly responsible for its current misery and was planning its subsequent demise. As Pam moved the light a bit, my eye caught something that made me do a double take.
There, on the mouse's cheek, under and to the side of his eye, was a tiny glint of something shiny.
I straightened up with a jerk and bawled, "HE'S CRRRYYYIINNGG!!!"
Pam quickly looked, saw the tear, and then we both raised our heads to the sky and wailed miserably.
Both of us saw it. We would not lie about such things.
Finally, Pam said, "I think we just need to move it to the back of the yard and leave it there for nature to decide. Maybe a bird will eat it."
I agreed. I knew neither of us wanted to deal the final blow and yet, we didn't want to watch it slowly die either. Pam moved the mouse and lay it under the pine tree. We went inside and parted ways. As I continuted watching my documentary movie about Mark Twain, I couldn't stop thinking about the poor mouse and the fact that he was probably dying of cold under the pine tree since he was incapacitated.
Death by hypothermia.
Pam came up later and admitted that she too, could not stop thinking about the dying mouse.
Still, out of necessity, I set the trap again and prayed death would come quickly for its next victim. I don't think Pam and I can handle another sufferer.
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