Don’t stop watching in the middle…please. You may feel like it. You probably will think, “Why did she post that on her blog?”…but please watch this to the end. You will cheer. Kudos to my friend Dean for letting me understand Nolan.
We get mice in Crestline. Maybe it’s because we are gone to Arizona so often, and maybe there really is a mouse network, and perhaps there actually are mice supervisors who the minute our Jeep heads down the driveway, get on the horn and squeal out the message: “They’re gone. Hear me? They’re gone. Everyone gather in for a party!” Not sure exactly how it works, but during the nine years we have lived here in the San Bernardino Mountains, we have been “blessed” with numerous mouse visits, and with the evidence of Mickey and Minnie parties so wild as to cause even Disneyland to take note. Don’t get me wrong; I think mice are cute, but I just can’t have them traipsing around my kitchen, dipping elegantly into morsels of sweet, and of grain, and of other exotic foodstuffs. Our mice like dry chicken broth mix. I’m sure of that, for once when we had been away for an extended period, I found that the blue lid covering the broth mix can has been chewed and nibbled so that shreds of plastic lay about. Take a look at this one here. Look at his beautiful eyes, his elegant whiskers, and his shinny fur.
We arrived here for Christmas before any of our children, and saw right away the evidence of micey winter banquets. Jerry got out his trusty traps, and before anyone else arrived, he had snagged two. Our mice here in Crestline are bright; we’ve known that, so we were not exactly surprised when the second time he set them, Jerry’s traps were licked clean of the essence of peanut butter, but the spring had not thrown. We caught no more during the holidays.
After Christmas, Andrew stayed at our house a few days longer than we did, and before we left, Jerry showed Andrew where he had set a trap, and gave Andrew a mouse lesson…peanut butter, and all that…..A couple of days after we were back in Lake Havasu, Andrew called with the news of a mouse capture, and that he had thrown away both mouse and trap.
“You threw the trap and all away?” I asked, aghast at such waste.
“Yes, Mom. I’m not touching the nasty mouse.”
We’re up in Crestline now, and when we arrived Sunday evening, my routine examination showed no evidence of mouse celebration. Evidently Andrew snagged the last one of that particular party.
I noticed one of the traps today at the top of the basement stairs and that set me to wondering: Do most people throw away their mouse traps, or do they (as does Jerry) empty the trap, and then hold some sort of a decent mouse disposal activity–not saying its a full-fledged funeral or anything like that, you understand. I’m curious about your habits–you, the faithful and kind readers of my blog. Do you carefully remove the little fella from the hideous trap? Do you wear gloves? Do you have any kind of a service? Or do you throw away both trap and trapee? Do you say sacred words as you toss both into the incinerator?
Note this post to be another world-shaking consideration following close on the trail of that one that considered in depth the correct pronunciation of the year of our Lord 2010.
By the way…it’s snowing here in Crestline. I’m wondering if there are smirky mice snuggled down in our basement…dreaming of sugarplums and of tasty peanut butter.
“Jerry, you’ll need to bring the traps up again.”
We had driven to our home here in beautiful Crestline on Wednesday morning so that I could wrap gifts, and make other Christmas preparations, assuring that when we come here from Havasu on the 23rd, there will be some semblance of order to our festivities. There’s still a small amount of snow on the ground from the last storm, and the temperatures have been low, so there is freezing every night. Our house is well insulated, and remains at a snug 50 degrees when its locked up and we’re gone, and we’ve come to understand that combination is quite appealing to the mice who vacation here in the San Bernardino mountains.
We’ve known for some time that the mice around here are brilliant, for our skirmishes with them before have quite proved that. Now it seems we are hosting a tribe of epicurean gourmands, for they have taken to nibbling (and no doubt brewing somewhere) expensive coffee beans. On checking our cupboards Wednesday, I found indications of their presence on one shelf only. Residing on that shelf are mostly canned goods, but as we prepared to leave after Thanksgiving a few weeks ago, I had also placed there a sealed plastic bag of gourmet coffee beans. Now I could see that into the slick coffee bag, two tiny holes had been drilled, presumably by mouse teeth, and that there were coffee beans scattered around on my cupboard shelves. Unbelievable. I know the little rascals probably live down in the basement around the water heater, and just come prowling upstairs when their provisions run low, but I had never thought of them brewing cups of coffee. They probably utilize miniature coffee pots and cups the size of my pinky fingernail when a caffeine urge strikes the little brown mice, and they’re probably snickering down there now at their successes in evading Jerry’s traps.
One of them isn’t. Jerry snagged him with white cream cheese on a trap setting smack among the coffee beans.
My devotional blog is here.