From the Associated Press, December 18, 2009:
The cafeteria in Pennsylvania’s Capitol in Harrisburg remained closed and workers scoured the facility Friday after health inspectors found evidence of a rodent infestation…
Mice are no strangers to us up at the Creek.
Each year, around the first frost, we embark on a winter-long ritual: before bed, set the traps; first thing in the morning, empty the traps. Set the traps. Empty the traps.
Rinse and repeat.
I don’t even really think about it any more. On a bitter January morning, I’ll pad down to the dark kitchen, don my leather work gloves, and look for a tell-tale flipped trap.
Brooke the basset hound will look on with tired red eyes, unimpressed, as I squat down to give the trap a preliminary poke. I’ve learned not to assume that the mouse in the trap has necessarily expired.
Once or twice I’ve picked up a trap only to have the definitely undead mouse react with an outraged squeal and a flurry of panicked kicks.
Not a happy surprise, for either of us.
But the mouse trap is almost always lethal. When I’m satisfied that the mouse is, shall we say, no more, I’ll go out on the back porch, free the mouse from its final resting place, and then fling it to a new final resting place across the culvert.
While it may seem callous to dispose of a corpse this way, even a filthy little corpse like a mouse’s, I know that some lucky predator is going to get a unexpected winter treat: a perfectly delicious, refrigerated (after all, it is January), ready-to-eat meal, no hunting required.
Why not get a cat, you ask? Good question. We’ve had cats in the past, but a cat is no guarantee of a mouse-free existence. Our cats have always been pacifists.
I’ve read that if a kitten isn’t taught to kill by its mother, it simply won’t understand that hunting is about food, rather than sport.
Our cats were apparently criminally neglected. Not only did they refuse to kill a mouse — at least deliberately; they had absolutely no problem “playing” with one to death — they seemed to think that the highest use of a captured mouse was to share it with us.
Oh, those happy mornings, waking up to the cat’s strange growling, punctuated by the “help me! help me!” peeping of its latest plaything.
One morning, Shana went to put on a pair of leather boots, only to discover that the cat had chased a mouse into the toe of the left boot, where it stayed hidden until it was rousted by her incoming foot.
It was the one time, in all of our years together, that she gave a bona fide, blood-curdling, shower-scene-from-Psycho shriek.
Other than that, she’s been steady as a rock.
Last month, though, was a bad one for mice. We were briefly overrun. They left their little black calling cards everywhere. After the big clean-up, I read about the trouble they were having over in the Capitol cafeteria in Harrisburg. It got me thinking: maybe those city mice had decided to take a little sabbatical over in Perry County…
Capitol City (CC) Mouse: So, cousin, this is a nice spread you’ve got here. Mind if I stay a while?
Perry County (PC) Mouse: Make yourself comfortable. How long were you thinking of staying?
CC Mouse: Well, at least until the excitement dies down in the Capitol Café. They’ve made it pretty hot for us over there.
PC Mouse: I’m not sure you’re going to like Perry County. It’s pretty quiet compared with the city.
CC Mouse: Quiet is good! I need more quiet. Just look at those mountains. And the fresh country air… Why, I feel more awake than I ever did back in those dreary steam tunnels.
PC Mouse: I’ll be honest. That city is just too crowded for my taste. I can’t say I care for the caliber of humans you’ve got over there, either.
CC Mouse: Oh, come on. I’ll have you know that I rub shoulders with some of the most powerful people in the state.
PC Mouse: You actually touch them, then?
CC Mouse: Well, no. But you’d be amazed at how elevated the discussion is at that Café. Sometimes they’re a little hard to hear, because they lean in and talk all quiet-like. But if you hold still and stop nibbling for a minute or two, you can overhear some brilliant minds at work.
PC Mouse: I don’t know about brilliant…
CC Mouse: Why their brains are a marvel, constantly whizzing with big plans. And schemes. Of course, most of them have to do with staying in power. Hey, what’s that delicious smell? Is that peanut butter?
PC Mouse: No, Cousin! Stay away! It’s a trap!
CC Mouse: Pish tush. I know good peanut butter when I see it. If I’ve learned anything from living in the Capitol, it’s that you have to grab while the grabbing’s —
SNAP!
This column was published in the Perry Co Times on 14 January 2010
For more information, please contact Mr. Olshan at writing@matthewolshan.com
