We’ve just fought off an infestation of field mice. I can’t imagine how they made it into the house through our defensive perimeter of elderly, dentally compromised cats, but they did, and they found a secluded spot to fuck and raise up a division or so of aggressive kitchen countertop shitters. We purchased a few tin cats to collect them alive, and harvested an astonishing number. I thought we’d snagged the lot when my wife released five of them from the same trap one morning.
But no, Every morning I’d find their footprints in the dusting flour on the bread board, and trails of mouse turds everywhere, even in the formerly clean dishes drying on the drainers at the sink. There always seemed to be a little gray blur hurtling across the floor at the edge of my peripheral vision.

A small group of sappers occupied the kitchen stovetop, where they could conveniently pop out and grab a bite from any cooking spillage. When I saw one leap up from underneath one of the burners, I began to think the ones we’d trapped and released into the woods had come back, this time with a new plan.
We were contemplating putting some of the head-chopping traps beneath the stovetop ( we can’t use kill traps elsewhere because the cockatiel {nosy little bastard} gets into everything, and would more than likely be the first victim). I was beginning to hope Braun or one of the other coffee maker companies had a variant on the tin cat where the mouse steps into the trap and is pulled by a gentle vacuum into a stack of five closely set whirling knives, pureed, smoked lightly, and canned.

Then my wife discovered a better lethal option. She was carrying the crow his morning snack of moldy cheese or cat food or a grub she’d found in the garden, and happened to have one of the “rental units” with a couple of “renters” in it. She released the renters into the woods by the crow’s cage and one of them decided to run through. Mistake.
After this incident, my wife began taking all the renters out for a morning walk by the crow pen. The mice thereupon entered a swift attrition spiral.

It’s not every mousetrap that greets you with a deep bow and a “Hroo!” every morning. He’ll groom your nose and ear hairs, too.

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