How could I not know?
Houdini (probable pronouns - they/them) was a mouse. As a Quaker and pacifist, killing mice is not on my immediate punch list. Humanely trapping and releasing is a much better fit for this queasy non-killer of critters (including cockroaches.) Doing my Quaker thing, I humanely trapped and released 2 recent mousey interlopers, using the good ol’ pedestrian standbys of raw nuts.
After bidding the trapped mice farewell, I was incredibly relieved, patting myself on the back for a Quakerly job, well done…..
….until the next morning. I awoke to small piles of dirt surrounding various house plants. What!? Whoa, I wasn’t alone in the house! Take a deep breath, Jan. (Cue theme music from The Twilight Zone.) Could a possum have sneaked through my back door? In desperation, I quickly turned to my muse, Dr. Google. Per that peerless fount of wisdom, I learned that a mouse (now formally known, by me, as Houdini) can dig in plants to hide their “goodies.” OMG, what goodies? Had I not vacuumed enough? Cleaned up the kitchen to an immaculate gleam? What?!
Persist, persist, persist. I, once again, set 2 humane traps which, after 2 days, produced nothing except a different plant having been excavated each morning. It was face-plant city, for me, each of those mornings.
Returning, again, to Dr. Google’s realm. I explored other interventions (rather than being an outright mouse slayer.) Peppermint oil, for its strong smell, clicked onto the screen. Alright! Made a quick trip to my food co-op, returning with a small, but certainly not inexpensive, bottle of peppermint oil. Anointed a very large spider plant in my bedroom with said potion. Also set a nearby humane trap, just studded with a smorgasbord of mousy delicacies. I mean, totally studded.
Awoke the next morning, full of hope…. to the unnerving sight of my spider plant surrounded by a ring of dirt. The delicacy-stuffed mousey humane trap was completely untouched. Completely!
Where are you, God?! C’mon, help me!
Reached the “Argh!”state. Should I or shouldn’t I return to Dr. Google? (No, no, I don’t kill mice!) Heading for Dr. Google…
Dr. Google, at last gasp, told me mice love chocolate. Nah, couldn’t be. Could it? Clearly, my education had been sadly lacking. I begged a Trader Joe’s chocolate bar from my always reliable, cupboard-filled with goodies, neighbors.
Finally, Houdini and I had our reckoning around 5 AM the next morning. Houdini had consumed all the chocolate in the trap. I released the critter back to the outdoors, trusting new accommodations would be found, but NOT in my house. Emailed my neighbors an ardent thank you for the chocolate bar, sharing its glorious outcome, especially to my mental health. Received a reply, “Yeah!! Trader Joe’s always comes through!” Hard to argue with that…