In general I love all creatures, except rodents, spiders and snakes. We live in a rural area at the edge of small town USA. We are bordered on three sides by vacant lots, one of which sports a densely wooded area. Small wildlife are common sights around our little neighborhood. (See my post about Dawson the groundhog for example.)
I just love watching these adorable, furry little creatures scampering across our lawn or climbing our trees. It is always a special treat when I look out my kitchen window and see a squirrel on the ledge just a few feet from our house. And there must be hundreds of bunnies dwelling in our block of the neighborhood.
But no matter how much I love to watch these animals, I do not want them in my house. (Or eating my garden.) Never the less, each autumn brings in at least two (I think they might be mates) mice. I see evidence of their presence on my counter tops and out of the corner of my eye when I am up late at night.
My first response is always to inform my darling husband. He is, after all, the guardian and protector of our family and our home. His response usually goes something like this, "Awe, those cute little things don't hurt anything. They're just looking for a warm place to stay." He is such a kind hearted fellow. I mean, this man catches crickets and spiders and puts them outside rather than kill them. Me, I just stomp the stuffins out of them or spray them mercilessly with Raid, which ever is easier at the time. But Mr. Loving Hubby will dutifully set out the d-con knowing that it is better to side with me than the mouse if he wants to live a peaceful existance. And this is what he did when I spied the first autumn intruder this fall. D-con out, I figured that this rodent was toast and I just put him out of my mind.
Several evenings later Mr. Loving and I were sitting in our respective recliners enjoying the quiet of our cozy little home when I felt the presence of 'something' near my left arm. Looking over I saw (I shudder even remembering) a chubby little mouse sitting on his haunches (do mice have haunches?) on the arm of my recliner! Not only that, it was looking at me!
I'm not given to drama or theatrics, so I slowly arose from my chair and took several steps toward Mr. Loving. "Uh, Honey," I said, pointing at my chair. A huge smile spread across Mr. Loving's face as he took in the scene before him. "Awe, Honey," he said, "it's sick and is just looking to the nurse to help it!"
Sure enough, it was a sick little mouse. Mr. Loving was quickly able to capture it, and yes, he put it outside. I'm not sure that this particular mouse survived, but since then we have trapped 2 more. Yes, I said trapped. No more D-con. From now on it's glue traps in our house. Inhumane? Maybe. But if it keeps the critters out of my chair, it's worth it!