Sunday, December 2, 2012

Mouse Wars

I have never been to a real war.  That is by choice primarily, and also by luck. My homeland has never been invaded, although I now live in Hawaii, which was infamously attached.  War…what is it good for?  I believe there should be alternatives…
But recently I have been called into battle to defend my home, my yurt, from an onslaught of mice.  They started it.  Although the truth be known, I have built my round home in their native territory, and so they been called to defend it and even take advantage of it in their mouse-like way; they assault the walls and enter through the weak points, near the doors.  And they scamper and gnaw, especially at night.  I believe I am suffering Hype-Mouse-Awareness Syndrome.  They disturb the peace by chewing the insulation into tiny bits, leaving small drifts of silver shreds on the floor.  I guess they are building nests…bringing in re-enforcements, establishing a beachhead?   And in their mouse-chauvinistic way they mark their victories by pooping -seed like feces- everywhere.
So reluctantly, I go to war.  These mice are not repugnant rats that I could learn to hate; no they are cute little lava gray fur balls.   In another part of the world at a different time I may have been buying them for pets or for science projects.  But now they have crossed a line, one that they do not see, for it is a line of mine; they have crossed my border of sensibility.  They are disturbing my peace and they must die.  They are the dirty evil hordes.
There is no reasoning with them.  They know not of truce or compromise.  So I must summon my strongest weapon, hate. Why, I remember one bit me once, DIE!  And all those times they pooped in the silverware drawer, DIE.  And the chewing and gnawing my beloved yurt walls, all night long, my place of certain serene sanctity: DIE-DIE-DIE!
So I have been warring, mainly using traps (you know, the “build a better mousetrap “type.)  They are quick and “merciful” in dispatching these rodent invaders.  I have dispatched, neutralized, mitigated, etc., aka killed more than a dozen.  Little lives mashed and crushed.  They are rather clever enemies not easy to kill.  I have actually witnessed one standing on the trap, gorging itself in a feast of the peanut butter bait.  Flaunting its skills or tempting its fate?  Oh yes, and to assure victory, a box of green poison pills, for our allies at Decon.  Better living through chemistry. Heaven (Hell) knows how that chemical warfare works, but it mercifully distances me from the mayhem. 
No Johnny Appleseed am I.  But I do believe in peace.  But the model of live and let live, of acceptance and patience, how does that apply?  If this so called enemy crosses that “line” how does that act played so innocently push me beyond my tolerance?  They are just trying to live as best they know how…is this not always possible?


  1. I sympathize with your reluctant battle. Whenever my cat proudly flings a mouse corpse at my feet, I feel sympathy for the little guy...but that feeling is OVERWHELMED by joy that my cat is such a badass mouser.

  2. Yes, a hungry cat might do the trick...but then of couse you have a cat...

  3. i read in a book about puna that there is a device down at the local hardware store called the rat zapper. the person who wrote this book purchased and loved it. good luck!