THE GREAT RODENT WAR CONTINUES

The grain on the far fields has been harvested; the canola is still here.

We have had our challenges with Blogger. Mike’s posts regarding his motocaching adventure are out of order, and we aren’t sure if it’s us or them. The process discourages the posting of photos.

To catch us up to the present:

On Tuesday (Aug. 18), a day of “extreme heat,” Mike rode back to town. He motocached to and from, but I don’t think he would have gone on such a hot day had it not been to check the mousetraps at the town house. He said we had just one in an old Victor trap, but the bait was gone from the four new “PIC” traps. Rats!! That means we’ve been feeding the mice rather than catching them. He also identified that old spot under the kitchen sink as a point of egress. He said he would repair that seal when we return to town. More delay, but I’ve relaxed a bit. If they get into my yarn, I’ll just buy more! 

Stairwell closet

And then, on Thursday (Aug. 20), Mike opened the closet under the stairs at the farmhouse, where we keep leftover paint and his shooting accessories and cried, “Foul odor.” Uh-oh! If I had known the morning’s chore would be to clean that closet, I would have stayed in bed!

 

Being under the stairway, the ceiling of this closet slants from the doorway down to the floor, so you can’t stand up in there. Mike crawled along and handed things to me one at a time. Out came the shooting accessories and then one by one we removed all the leftover paint we ever had in this house – from 17 years ago as well as from the remodel two years ago. We had to take everything out before we came to the nest in the very back corner – yes, a nest! – constructed of paper (Mike’s shooting targets) and what looked like insulation. At that point, we asked Bess to check it out, and she determined that the nest was empty. Upon further investigation, Mike found holes where the ceiling meets the floor, undoubtedly made by the mice, and he stuffed steel wool into that crevice. At least one good thing came of it: we tossed the old paint.

Smoke fills the canyon

I reminded Mike that we aren’t going to win this war. We can only hope to keep the mice at bay, and that means staying vigilant. 

On Sunday (Aug. 23), we returned to town. Upon investigating the traps, we found that the good old trustworthy Victor had one mouse, but the bait was again gone from those “PIC” brand traps. However, I have to say, these mice are mighty small – perhaps too small to trigger the traps. Sunday afternoon Mike sprayed more sealant under the kitchen sink. I brought traps from the farmhouse that we set up.

The pond

Once we go to bed, the mice come out to play. SNAP! – and if we’re awake, Mike gets up to check and re-set the trap.

“Was it a small one?” I called to him.

“Well, they’re getting bigger,” he laughed, reminding me that it doesn’t take long.

How many generations of mice have been raised in my house? Clearly this isn’t the end of this story. KW