We have mice in our basement. I discovered them while reaching into a poorly lit corner to close a valve on a pipe leading to a leaky faucet. Something from deep in the poorly lit corer scampered away quickly, and I realized that the little nibble holes in my camping food didn't come while on the trail but from before we ever left.
I set a total of four traps. When I checked on them a few hours later one of the traps had disappeared. I got nervous and imagined that we were infested with a breed of super mouse that collected traps and kept them as souvenirs in well-appointed mouse holes. A little searching revealed a very dead mouse caught tightly in a mouse trap a few feet away. I like to think that the combined impulse of trap being sprung and the spasm of a quickly killed mouse caused the trap to end up so far away from where I set it, although it seems more likely the work of a panicked and slowly suffocating critter. The second trap to be sprung was similar to the first. I found a dead mouse stuck in a trap a few feet from where I had set it. The third mouse I found was still alive, and stuck to the trap via a very broken leg. There is nothing in this world more pathetic than a stuck, broken, and probably starving mouse. I put him in a shopping bag, trap and all, and gave a good stomp. The least I could do for the little guy was end it quickly. Despite my kids' near constant reminders to reduce, reuse, and recycle, I didn't look in the bag to see if the trap was salvageable for another round.
I'm hoping that (a) there were only three mice and this episode's over, or at least (b) I become insensitive to killing small animals and find it easy to dispose of the the rest of the mice and the groundhog that's taken up residence under our wood pile. I am actually finding it easier as the body count rises. Somewhere an ancestor of mine who would have doubled his protein intake by finding three mice is looking on in disgust as I put my shoes on before going to check the traps, and as I poke the sprung traps with a broom to make sure my victim isn't going anywhere.
As unpleasant as this has been, it's much better than I expected when I saw the first mouse. My only previous experience with varmints like this was crossing paths with hideous and completely unafraid sewer rats in Sao Paulo. If I ever see anything like those in our house we'll skip the traps and just burn the house down.
Further reading (articles I though of while typing this):
David Foster Wallace on killing animals.
Steven E. Landsburg on kids being indoctrinated into the cult of environmentalism.
3 comments:
We bought one of those traps that totally encompases the mouse when it's set off. That way if we need to use it, I won't have to look at the dead mouse.
Why not get a few Black Racers, they'll go right to the main headquarters. Bingo problem solved.
I shuddered at your stomping description. . . yuck!
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