A spring revelation…

Dancing mice

Spring in North Carolina. Just busting out. There’s a wild profusion of life. Wonder, awe, and….

….the pitter-patter of tiny, furry feet, wildly celebrating at night in my plentiful kitchen. But I’m not celebrating with them. At all. Their teeny-tiny, dark, rice-sized, gifts left as gratitude for my kitchen’s nightly open house are NOT a welcome precursor to making my French Press coffee in the morning. The aroma of dark roasted, chocolate-infused, organic coffee beans, freshly ground? Gone to hell!

And to complicate this clearly diagnosed case of rodentia invasion, I don’t kill things! I just can’t. My middle name during these challenges evolves into…work-around….which usually entails an intensive bout of googling and test-driving the outcomes of my pacifist de-micing mania. (It’s not only test-driving, but the purchase of bizarre gizmos which I’m embarrassed to share with friends.)

You don’t have a subscription to Consumer Reports? I don’t either, but am only too happy to share, honestly and vulnerably, my pacifistic, anti-rodentia, failures and successes? We’re off!

*The plastic see-through catch and release mouse trap. No, no, no, no! Waking up in the morning (twice) to mousy tails ensnared in the trap door! Ouch, ouch, ouch. More than this empathic pacifist could handle! A humane trap? Ask a mousy tail, first.

*Ultrasonic pest repeller (AKA repel from actually buying this gadget.) Those little critters get habituated to the sound and actually increased their, um, droppings, around the device. A non-too-subtle message to me?

*Bingo!! Grandma’s old fashioned essence of peppermint oil! Sprayed on paper towels and left, during the night, at spots I knew the critters had been dancing in my kitchen. A de-mouser, par excellence! Happy, happy, pacifist de-mouser, here!  (A word to the odiferously sensitive: peppermint spray-infused paper towels are stored during the day in a closed jar; otherwise, you’d be looking for an exit, too.)

*And, who knew? Let there be light!! An electric light, left on in the vicinity of a recent mousy dance party, will have them heading deeper into their own darker labyrinths. Humans seem to be considerably more attracted to looking for the light than the mousy population. (No judgment intended, of course.)

Hallelujah! Mouse-free for a week. And for the sake of my own mental health, “made a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself” allowing that good, well-meaning, humans may still receive mousy visitations. I’m willing to share the outside world with these critters, but the kitchen is mine!