We love
our wildlife garden. It’s full of life and energy especially in the spring. A
flock of Blue tits and goldfinches are now regulars alongside the Jenny Wren,
robin and 2 pairs of blackbirds with their wonderful birdsong. The oversexed
frogs and Toads have turned our pond into tapioca and the hedgehog is back. I
plan to add some kale in amongst the wildflower patch ready for the butterflies
and white cabbage caterpillars. The hawthorn pushing through will provide food
for the beautiful grey dagger moth caterpillar and shelter
for the birds. When the bloom pushes through, the insects will return.
Something the resident bats will welcome as they have once again started whirring
around our house in the early twilight hours recently.
What
we also have in the garden and which I love with equal measure, is mice. I used
to have mice as a kid so I’m quite familiar with them and I am more than happy
to co-exist with these little fur-balls – provided they stay where they should –
in the garden. There’s plenty of food for them to forage, a huge woodpile to
make a home in– what’s not to like? Its Mouse utopia. Well apparently not. Last
week we found our bird seed plastic container under the sink gnawed along the
edges. The Mouse had landed. We emptied the cupboard under the sink
immediately, bleached it through and put all the contents in quarantine for a
couple of days.
3
days later we were back to normal. Or so I thought.....Lying on the couch this
Thursday evening thinking of exercising, I was startled into movement by a banshee
cry from the playroom. I immediately burst into action and turned the TV volume
up. I then went to investigate. Wifey was standing in the doorway with her arms
up and pressed tightly into her chest and a finger just pointing out from below
her nose...
“I
saw a mouse!”
“Where?”
“There”
“On
the stair?”
“Right
there!”
It
wasn’t a little mouse with clogs on (those of a younger age will need to google
that reference) The mouse had crossed the line.....He had gone from garden to
cupboard and now had taken to brazenly sauntering about our playroom. Drastic
action need to happen. With a toddler and a pregnant wifey, incontinent mice
dragging their ever active nether-regions across the floors just wasn’t going
to work.
So,
do we poison him? No – too cruel and painful for the mouse
Mousetrap?
It’s quick but rather brutal
We
settled on a humane trap.
(I
should say at this juncture, as is always the case throughout my blog, I will
asterisk any brand names to avoid potential litigation...) So...to continue... I
was forced to take a trip to A*da to buy rather expensive Rentok*ll ‘capture and release’ trap. I set the trap
just by the H*tpoint washing machine and laced it with Cadb*rys chocolate
buttons just before bedtime.
2
hours later, a rattling sound drifted to the bedroom. I went down for a
goob.....there in the trap scratching away at the door was said mouse.
Brilliant. Tomorrow we will release the little fella. He didn’t need any food –
the greedy git had already polished off the chocolate buttons. I put him in a dark
cupboard for the night.
In
the morning, I hatched Operation Dangermouse. The plan was genius in its
simplicity... Covertly transport the mouse to the local farm. Buy a Victoria
sponge. Come home and have a nice cup of tea and a slice of cake. This would
involve full family participation:
Mouse
and mousetrap go into my overcoat pocket.
Although
only 60 yards down the road, we take the car route to the farm which gives us
access to the rear car park.
From
there we can see the target drop off point (hay barn) just to the right.
Hattie
and I ask Farmer Brown if we can go and see the hens in the hay barn.
Wifey
and I separate. Wifey heads to the farm shop for a nice Victoria sponge and
some milk – distracting the assistant.
Hattie and I reach the target drop off point and
begin fussing about. A quick check to make sure farmer Brown isn’t looking
and.... mousetrap out, flaps open and he’s off! A new life on the farm.
Agreed?
Great. Lets go!
Nappy
change - coat on - Hattie in the car
Boots
on - scarf on - Wifey ready
Crocs
on - coat on - Dad hungry
Cupboard
doors open trap picked up....
Mouse
dead.
That’s
right. Dead. The selfish rodent lay there in his own filth, his chocolate
smeared face staring unblinkingly and impassively up at me (yooooou did this to
me ....yooooooou.....)
The
rescue plan, a work of genius, lay in tatters on the floor...
Wifey
began to gag...
Hattie
began to cry in the car...
Mouse
piss began to seep out of the trap and onto my fingers.
In
my attempt to be humane, I ended up doing completely the opposite. Good job I’m
not a doctor. Checking the web, these humane traps catch the mouse easily
enough but what they don’t say is that you must release it immediately or else
the mouse becomes highly stressed and likely dies of heart failure.
The
day has been a bit of a disaster. Not a complete disaster though, I muse to
myself as I take a sip of tea and spoon another piece of Victoria sponge in my
mouth - you can have your cake and eat it.
Sadly
for our furry friend, curiosity killed the mouse.
