In our last house, I had to spend a bit of time putting mesh over airbricks etc to stop mice getting in the house. I've not had time to do any of that nonsense in the new place yet. I have however amused myself watching mice running around our patio, well nourished by the 4 or 5 bird feeders we have at the bottom of the garden. They seemed content to scurry around outside, around the large multitude of great big plant pots that either arrived with us or were left by the elderly lady we bought the house from.
Not any more though. Mrs Woody has reported evidence of mouse incursions into our dog treat drawer and even showed me a packet of waffles that had been chewed through and half-eaten by what was evidently a massive fat bloater of a mouse.
Mrs Woody is a feminist, so there's no reason why I should have assumed that "the patriarchy" should have to deal with the mouse problem. After all, the mice have been merrily gathering mere feet away from the house to feast on the birdfeed she puts out. However, it turns out that mouse control is indeed a man job. There you go. She will neither catch the mice nor go anywhere near them once caught.
I had a couple of traps knocking about, they're like plastic boxes with one way in, then a big peg-like thing in the middle. Mouse goes in, takes treat, BANG, peg on the head, dead mouse enclosed in box for neat & tidy disposal.
Set those up two nights ago. Yesterday, I looked in one, nothing. Looked in the other, there was a little head twitching away. Took the trap out of the drawer, opened it up. Tiny little mouse looking up at me, one leg a bit mashed up by the peg, but otherwise OK. I popped him in a plastic container, gave him a dog treat to chew on. Proper country folk would no doubt have just humanely knocked the little dude on the head and chucked him into the weeds, as he'd probably not survive very well in the wild, but I couldn't do it. I took him out the back into a field, popped him into a bush and wished him the best.
I then got a bollocking from the wife, as mice can apparently travel up to 3 miles back to where they know food is plentiful. I doubt this one will manage, with his leg and all, but the message was clear - captured mice needed to be evacuated by car to a point of no return.
I set the traps again last night. This morning, trap no.1 was empty again. Trap no. 2 was not. Another mouse, must be a different one unless the last one was some kind of paralympian. Squashed head this time though. No way back for him. Stuck him in a flower bed.
I don't really want to have the 3-legged mouse dilemma again though, and find it a bit unfair to crush the head of the little fellas, so I have bought some humane "mouse motels", that trap a mouse until the morning, at which point you can just give them a telling off or whatever. I have set two of these this evening. I've also read up about this nonsense of homing mice that can travel 3 miles back to your house. Which turns out to be true.
It also turns out that if you're trying to be humane, you shouldn't just take a lone mouse out 3 miles away and leave them there. It's better to catch a few, and take them as a little band that can look after each other. Or, if you listen to PETA, you should release them near to where you trapped them, which seems bloody pointless unless I'm going to get round to mouse-proofing the house, which is a long way down my list of jobs.
So, I am left with a dilemma
I can catch the mice and release them in a PETA-approved radius of the house, meaning they'll be back as soon as they're hungry
Or I can catch them, take them out into the wild alone and release them to a lonely doom
Or I can collect a family of mice and relocate them all, witness protection programme style, to another place where they can live happily ever after
Or I could always keep all the ones I find and start a mouse zoo
What do you reckon?
Not any more though. Mrs Woody has reported evidence of mouse incursions into our dog treat drawer and even showed me a packet of waffles that had been chewed through and half-eaten by what was evidently a massive fat bloater of a mouse.
Mrs Woody is a feminist, so there's no reason why I should have assumed that "the patriarchy" should have to deal with the mouse problem. After all, the mice have been merrily gathering mere feet away from the house to feast on the birdfeed she puts out. However, it turns out that mouse control is indeed a man job. There you go. She will neither catch the mice nor go anywhere near them once caught.
I had a couple of traps knocking about, they're like plastic boxes with one way in, then a big peg-like thing in the middle. Mouse goes in, takes treat, BANG, peg on the head, dead mouse enclosed in box for neat & tidy disposal.
Set those up two nights ago. Yesterday, I looked in one, nothing. Looked in the other, there was a little head twitching away. Took the trap out of the drawer, opened it up. Tiny little mouse looking up at me, one leg a bit mashed up by the peg, but otherwise OK. I popped him in a plastic container, gave him a dog treat to chew on. Proper country folk would no doubt have just humanely knocked the little dude on the head and chucked him into the weeds, as he'd probably not survive very well in the wild, but I couldn't do it. I took him out the back into a field, popped him into a bush and wished him the best.
I then got a bollocking from the wife, as mice can apparently travel up to 3 miles back to where they know food is plentiful. I doubt this one will manage, with his leg and all, but the message was clear - captured mice needed to be evacuated by car to a point of no return.
I set the traps again last night. This morning, trap no.1 was empty again. Trap no. 2 was not. Another mouse, must be a different one unless the last one was some kind of paralympian. Squashed head this time though. No way back for him. Stuck him in a flower bed.
I don't really want to have the 3-legged mouse dilemma again though, and find it a bit unfair to crush the head of the little fellas, so I have bought some humane "mouse motels", that trap a mouse until the morning, at which point you can just give them a telling off or whatever. I have set two of these this evening. I've also read up about this nonsense of homing mice that can travel 3 miles back to your house. Which turns out to be true.
It also turns out that if you're trying to be humane, you shouldn't just take a lone mouse out 3 miles away and leave them there. It's better to catch a few, and take them as a little band that can look after each other. Or, if you listen to PETA, you should release them near to where you trapped them, which seems bloody pointless unless I'm going to get round to mouse-proofing the house, which is a long way down my list of jobs.
So, I am left with a dilemma
I can catch the mice and release them in a PETA-approved radius of the house, meaning they'll be back as soon as they're hungry
Or I can catch them, take them out into the wild alone and release them to a lonely doom
Or I can collect a family of mice and relocate them all, witness protection programme style, to another place where they can live happily ever after
Or I could always keep all the ones I find and start a mouse zoo
What do you reckon?
), whilst having a bit of a mouse problem in the house. Went weeks of hoovering up what was on the floor before the penny dropped and realised what we were smoking 
WEED CLUB