I had a mouse.
He was living in my kitchen for a week or so.
I got some great no-kill traps from Home Depot. Small gray plastic boxes with a gravity lid that
stays open while the trap is tilted forward, but slips shut once it tilts back.
Exactly these:
Caught the little bugger twice, actually.
But not without some tweaking.
Originally, I'd heard scratching noises, like small teeth on old pasta, coming from under the oven.
And I saw little black caraway seed-shaped rodent spoor under the sink.
That's how I knew I was being visited, and then I bought the traps. Less than $4 for a 2-pack.
At first, I tried some Caciqe Asadero, terrific mexican melting cheese, practically a cheese spread
in its raw form, really. Beautiful for perfectly smooth cheese sauce.
I put a few grams in each of traps and braced the baseboard either side of the oven with them, so he
couldn't miss.
Next morning, one lid had fallen, but maybe it just fell on its own, because the cheese was inside
and the mouse wasn't. The balance on these was tricky and the slightest touch would unset them.
And then I didn't hear him anywhere, so I figured he'd left, so I put the traps away.
A couple of days later, I heard scratching noises again.
So I reset the traps, with Stilton, hoping that unlike the mild Asadero it would have the aroma of
rot and depth that a mouse would seek out.
Half an hour later, sitting on the sofa, I heard a lid fall.
I went to the kitchen, lifted the trap and something jumped inside.
But, curious like any cat, I wanted to see my prey. So I grabbed a handy (dirty) 1-quart pyrex
measuring cup, and a heavy book (The Art of Eating, by MFK Fisher). I placed the book over the cup,
save an inch for the mouth of the trap. I opened the trap. In the same motion, the mouse fell from
the trap, turned, and leapt out through the tiny space remaining. He caromed off the toaster oven,
flew to the floor, tried the trash can as a hiding spot, found no opening underneath, then turned
and made for the refrigerator. Total time to escape to invisibility: about 0.7 seconds.
Left me standing, agape, trap and book in hand.
Damn.
There I named him. Zippy the Wonder Mouse.
I refilled the traps with store-brand cheddar (still experimenting rather than just going with what
works), and this morning, one of the traps was sprung but empty. I'd left the rather large chunks of
cheddar an inch or so from the back of the trap, so as to avoid having them simply tilt themselves,
but clearly, that was a mistake. He'd reached in and got the bait, then had room to get out without
the lid dropping far enough to lock shut.
Bugger.
No more mister nice mouser.
I didn't hear anything, so I figured he had left again. I looked through all the cabinets and
drawers, and man, mice can really make the jimmies when they want to. My main gadget drawer was a
mess. I unloaded everything into the dishwasher, plus all the pans from one cabinet that had several
nodules in it, and ran a heavy-wash cycle (3 hours of washing and rinsing in my Maytag MDB7600).
Then I took the Chlorox Cleanup to the drawers and cabinets. One thing desert folk need to be
careful of with rodents is Hantavirus, so I soaked and let set before I wiped.
About dinnertime, I heard rattlings in an empty kitchen.
I went in and turned on the light, and saw the little grey pischer run behind the microwave.
I got the traps, put just a pinch of Stilton in each, and boxed him in.
Ten minutes later, I heard what could only be the long wooden chopstick I'd set next to the sink.
Ten feet from the microwave.
Boshemoi! He'd walked right past the traps!
I went back into the kitchen, and he was nowhere to be found.
So returned to my movie, and waited.
Twenty more minutes, and aha! The sound of a lid dropping, and tiny frustrations rising.
I tiptoed in, lifted the tripped trap, and sure enough, it had a resident rodent.
Having no reason to care to see what he looked like a second time, I slipped on my shoes and dropped
him out of the trap into the dark in the ditch beyond the backyard fence.
Maybe the rabbits will adopt him before the snakes and coyotes do.
--Blair "This ain't no Habitrail."