One Very Lucky Mouse ....!

 Okay. So, I keep my beer in my store room. Place where I store all my pest control gear, traps and shit. I have one wall in there shelved, and floor to ceiling covered in various cage traps.

 Two of these traps are " Monarch " rat traps. Made by the late, and deeply lamented, firm of S. Young and Sons (Misterton). 

 I don't know what name you may know them under. But, these are the ones like a little, wire aircraft hangar. Funnel entrance leads to a lead counter weighted trap door. Trap door tilts down to allow the captive into the second compartment. From which there is no escape.

 Sadly, I have pretty conclusive proof of this 'No Escape' thing. It's still there, as I type. The mummified husk of a mouse, hanging through the 1/4" mesh at the bottom of one of the traps.

 Poor little bastard had got in there and tried to squeeze back out. Unfortunately, mice have this habit of squeezing through ridiculously small holes. Then they fuck up at the hips. Seen it all before.

 So, that poor fucker constricted its guts to christ knows what. Then hung there and dehydrated. FFS. Of course, the Trap Wall being the other end of the room? A thirsty man's not going to pay it much attention as he marches in to refill from just inside the door.

 That's how come this other mouse was So fucking lucky. It just all came together for him. 

 It was very late at night. I'd finished with the fora and was sat watching a film, on Netflix. Drinking beer, naturally. Thus I had my hearing aid in. Without it, I'm deaf as a post. Couldn't follow the dialogue on a film without the volume cranked up to (to you) ear shattering levels.

 I'd sneaked off to grab a refill and, as I knelt at the barrel, pouring one off I heard a 'Ting!' from the far end of the room. I'm like; " WTF?! "

 Stood up and stared. Movement. There, in the second Monarch trap. One with the shrivelled mouse hanging out of it. Only, This mouse was very much alive and running round inside the second compartment. The trap door shutting behind him had made that sound.

 That was one lucky mouse. House mouse. He'd come in for a scout around. It's getting cooler out there. Fuck it. I took him back outside and opened the traps back door. Let him go back about his business. Why the fuck not?

 Sad thing is; In attending that trap, I found the bare bones of a Third mouse, in the front compartment! That poor little bastard must've been caught earlier and got fly blown. So, our little man here was third time lucky.

 I've learned. Now both traps have their release doors open. And the trap doors between compartments are each held open with a steel tent peg.    

 I'm a pest controller. If and when the mice coming in here get to bothering me? I set my snapper traps and wipe them out. Humanely. I can't stand the thought of unnecessary suffering though. And, I don't just kill shit because it's there.
 

 

Time Doesn't Always Heal .....

  So; I'm in this house today, checking, emptying and resetting my boxed mouse traps. It's fucking chaos! Single mother. Apparently not the sharpest tool in the box.

  Welfare job. Four or five little kids ~ one of whom appears to have been schooled in the fact, since my last visit, that she shouldn't be calling me " Dad "!

  That was freaking the fuck out of me, last week. Dear little chavvy. All but hanging onto my hand as she chattered away incessantly, in that totally earnest way that they have at some small age.


 She was there again, today. Still couldn't catch a word of what she was on about. Bless her. One room. Five kids and the mother. I'm trying to pop my boxes. Bait. Set. Position. Get the fuck out.

 What I'm getting is little chavvies handing me boxes. Picking up boxes I've primed ~ thus firing them off. Woman's saying something about some fucking thing. Flies? No flies here. Kiddies? Swarm of them. No flies though. Tuning out .....

 Noticed one or two of these chavvies is toddling around with a little, plastic replica of a sawn off, pump action shot gun, with a pistol grip. Toys kids get these days, eh?

 I was thinking of my own, real thing, which I have beside me at home, here. Woman was going on about flies, still. 

 That small section of my mind that I could spare for her, right then, was causing my mouth to say; " Sounds more like someone had died in that room. " 

 I was trying to concentrate on the setting of the trap I was holding right then. Kids flowing around my feet. Then, I felt a prod, beneath my lower, right rib.

  I swear to fucking christ; For a split second there? I Shit Myself! I had so much going on around me ~ ye have to realise that I live in an environment of calm and tranquillity. Pretty much 24 / 7. I have to. Or it's back on the Heavy Sedation .....

 And I have the short barrel of a Mossberg, pump action, 12 bore shotgun stuck under my ribs ..... My chest cavities contents are about to exit via the back of my fucking neck ....!

 Next second, I'm sort of laughing in this womans face. Saying, " Jesus! ". Laughing. Mentally willing the switch Not to trip the other way, so I'd spiral the floor, a wreck.

  Fuck. I'm trying to breath right, now. That was ten hours ago. " The Incident " was nearer to twenty fucking Years ago!

 This is why they say I'm suffering Chronic Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's on going. It'll never go away. I'm fucked.

 Shit like this just reminds me how fucked I really am.

Worst Possible Move for a Mouse .....

Daft bugger. Looking for somewhere a few degrees warmer than out there now, see? House Mouse. Obviously decided it was time to move into a house for the winter. Bad choice, coming here. Just to add to it all though; Silly bastard turned up in my Pest Control storage room! I mean ....!

I also keep my sack of horse meal and my bin bag in there. Horse meal means I keep it scrupulously clean ~ not wanting to attract mice, obviously. And the bin bag means I'm opening the door and popping my head in, umpteen times a day. That's how I spotted him.

Just slinging something in the bin this evening. Saw something out the corner of my eye and was just in time to confirm it was a house mouse, as it bolted round or under something. Thought then; " Here we go! ".

Had to feed the Dogs and horses though. Gave Rosie a damn good brushing out. Came back in here to start settling down for a bit. Eventually wandered back out there and remembered the mouse. Set a few traps and got back to what I was doing.

Hard to imagine how he got in there. Pretty solid and sealed up little room, that one is. Probably something to do with the old fire place or the door frame. No matter. Thought to check the traps twenty minutes later and there he was. Magpie food.

Makes me laugh, really. Mr Average Family Man will see a mouse. Go out and buy A trap. Set it as if he's after an elephant. Place it in a terrible spot. Couple of days later, perhaps catch a mouse anyway, due to the sheer volume of traffic. Then brag to all and sundry what a fine and noble chap he is. Real genetic throw back to the Hunter - Gatherers. Thinks he caught " The Mouse ", see?

No. The buggers are in here now. Place is a right fucking mess, just now too. Building work going on throughout. Even got an entire floor to put down, one of these fine days. That'll stop a lot of them, of course. But, I know the craic. It's very much Game On from here on in. Time to get the traps out, in force.

Get my poster up in town too .....

Nigger Does It Again ....!

Damn Dog just seems to get better! :D

The other night ~ last night? ~ I seem to remember him pawing one of my mouse boxes around, in my kitchen. I have these special little boxes. They contain a mouse trap and a slot in the top of the box discreetly alerts ye to when the trap's been fired.

Only, I haven't had any mice in this place for about a year now and, to be honest with ye? Those boxes have kind of become almost 'invisible' to me.

So, I've been busy with some DIY out there lately. I'd have been distracted and just told Nigger to leave the box alone. Then gone back to thinking of timber and screws.

Tonight though, I'd about finished my own, latest burst of activity when Dean O' turned up to do a bit more DIFD ('Do It For Ditch'). He's setting up my new sink and shower. Only, I think it was when Dean lost sight of his tape measure and I was looking about for that that I spotted this mouse box, moved slightly away from its usual spot.

Then I realised it had fired. Oh ..... It happens to all Rat Catchers. Something comes up and ..... and, one day, ye inevitably have to check a trap, knowing it should've been checked long ago! I was explaining this to Dean O', even as I took out my key and popped the lid on the box. Bracing myself, with curled lip, to look inside.

Yeppers. There was fur in there. Brown fur. A House Mouse. Only, to my surprise and delight, it was fresh as a daisy! And that's when I remembered calling Nig Nig off this box, only yesterday. Bugger had scented the fresh mouse in there and was curious to get at what it was :-)

If he, like all my other Dogs, had ignored that faint smell? It may have been god knows how long before I'd noticed and opened that damn thing! Urgh! Been there before!

I threw the body into my compost bin. Then had second thoughts as I realised what a treat it'd make for my magpie. I was just about to go fetch it though when I remembered how I've had recent take in the Rat Box (baited) down in the horse pen. I'd looked for rat tracks or any other sign. Found none and put it down to concrete and low levels of activity.

Now I have other ideas. I'll put some mouse boxes down there too, tomorrow. In fact, I'll saturate my entire damn compound now. Because, even as I stood there, in my kitchen, chatting to Dean about all this; Bugger me if I didn't see, through the open door, a mouse dash across my gate way!

They're back. Let the fun begin!