When I was a boy spending carefree days in the Brim Hollow, I use to lie wide-eyed at night in the safety and security of a feather bed; and listen to mice racing up-and-down inside the walls of the house, and then hear them scurry across the attic floor. My grandmother had her ways of “mouse proofing” her kitchen to keep the food supplies safe. So, I have never been threatened by the tiny creatures.
My wife, Kathy, on the other hand, is very mouse averse.
I have observed through the years how mice usually seek shelter in the fall by attempting to come indoors. Regardless of where we have lived, every year I have had to deal with a mouse…or two. In the house where we now reside, the mouse’s favor abode was a vanity in a half-bath. Fortunately, the vanity doors remained shut, and when mouse “evidence” was discovered, a trap would close the deal. I finally resorted to steel wool which eliminated the annual invader.
In the past two-or-three years, mice seem attracted to our bedroom. (We discovered why this past fall.) I am usually alerted to the intruder’s presence each year when Kathy cries out from the bedroom, “Jack, a mouse just ran under the bed!” This signals a call to action. Since I am not threatened by a mouse, I will admit getting rid of a mouse is not high on my priority list. If Kathy sees the mouse a second time, it is best I make haste.
And so, it was this past fall when Kathy saw a mouse run under the bed. I responded in a day-or-two with a standard mouse trap baited with chunky peanut butter. The first night he “stole” the bait. I countered by forcing a piece of peanut inside the metal curl where the bait goes. The next night he got that, too. I came to realize I had a formidable foe. The third night I got him! (One down.) And all was right with the world.
Two nights later, I heard the call again. “J-a-c-k! A mouse just ran under the bed!” This was getting serious. I set extra traps. Two mornings later I was awakened to the sound of “clic..clic…clic.” Experience had taught me that was the sound of a mouse caught, but not caught. I arrived at the scene to find a country mouse (big eyes and ears) caught by his tail. At the sight of me, his adrenalin kicked in, and with a herculean effort, he pulled his long, sharp tail free, and scampered to the safety of a closet.
Desperate situations call for desperate measures. I knew this mouse would never go near a mouse trap again. My next move would be mouse “sticky pads.”
To make a long story short, the mouse situation was only intensified on the next morning when Kathy went to her closet to retrieve a favorite pair of shoes only to find one shoe filled with dog food. (The mouse had moved in and was storing up for the winter.) That did it!
The next night I strategically placed sticky pads on every possible mouse run. The following morning I was again awakened to the sound of “clic..clic…clic.” (That’s the sound of a mouse trying to free itself from a sticky pad.” (Two Down.)
Two nights later, I heard this sound coming from the bedroom, “EEEEEEEEECH!” It was not a mouse. It was Kathy! I raced to the bedroom.
“What?” I asked.
“Another one!” she cried.
“Where did he go? I asked. She pointed.
“Under that bureau?’ I asked. She nodded.
He was found stuck securely to a well-placed sticky pad. (Three down.)
I hate to admit it, but one week later I found a cup of dog food in one of my dress shoes in a nearby hall closet. I carefully surveyed the situation and brought in more sticky pads. Two days later, I got my mouse. (Four down.)
I am pleased to report that we have not seen “hide nor hair” of a mouse in our house for the past two months. But Kathy and I, both, remain on guard.
Copyright 2024 by Jack McCall
