Life

Mouse Vs. Watkins: The Pursuit of the Field Mouse

Everyone has those little irrational phobias. Me? Mice and crickets. If you want to terrify me, put one of those in front of me. Why innocent little melodious crickets make my stomach flip, I don’t know. Both my husband and my father understand how real it is though, as they were constantly called to ‘cricket killing’ duty.

But mice. These pesky little rodents that infiltrate the tiniest of spaces and wreak havoc on your belongings. These, I despise.

In my previous apartment we had a mouse problem. It was an old house with any number of ways for mice to get in. They ate the back half of my pantry before I knew it was happening, and were frequently heard running through the walls. We discovered sticky traps, as these particular mice were too clever to get caught in traditional traps. We didn’t live there very long as a family, and Hallie, our youngest, only really remembers that as ‘the apartment with the mouse in it’.

Now we live in an old house. On a farm. Surrounded by hay fields and corn. I knew when we moved here a few months ago, that mice would be a reality of life once again, and there was nothing I could do about it. I even went on the defensive and set out poison before we even saw a mouse. I breathed a little sigh and figured I had done what I could, and would await colder weather to begin more vigilantly looking for critters.

A couple of weeks ago, in the dead heat of summer, I saw what I thought was some ‘evidence’ in one of my kitchen drawers. Like any sane and logical person, I pretended it wasn’t there and shut the drawer back. That’ll show ‘em. But then I saw it in the silverware drawer, and couldn’t quite ignore it. After all, we eat off of that. After working up the courage to address it, I discovered the damage, and quickly threw away all of the food in the bread drawer and washed all the silverware.

Side note- While working on this, I was also cleaning out the cabinet under the sink, where I had just discovered a leak and standing, moldy water. Needless to say, I was thoroughly grossed out and disgusted with the whole kitchen.

My poor husband was mowing the yard throughout this whole ordeal. He walked in the kitchen to my ranting about the situation, and, I’m sure, wished he had a little bit more yard to mow. But he is such a good hubby, and found more traps and caught the mouse overnight. He asked me if I was going to hold the bag for him as he removed it from the drawer. Dramatically, I looked around and said “I don’t know who you’re talking to, but I won’t be holding a bag for you. I’ll be upstairs while you dispose of that mouse. And maybe you should throw it back out in the hay field as a message to all of his buddies as to what happens when you come into my kitchen.” Needless to say, he’s my hero. Don’t know what I’d do without him.

This is not the end of the mouse saga, as his buddy apparently did not get the message. This morning, while prepping for dinner, said buddy flitted across the counter. I doubt he’ll come back for a little bit, as my screams and yelling (won’t say what I yelled….) most likely gave him a good scare.

But don’t worry. When he comes back, I’ll be ready. I’m determined to be victorious in the battle of Watkins vs. the mice.

If you have any battle tips for fighting this tiny foe, please leave a comment below and share with a fellow mouse warrior. She would appreciate any help she can get.

 

Your thoughts?