Sophie and I have an uber-mouse. The mice came up from the basement/surrounding area this fall, and we put out traps. The first two days we killed two mice, but since then, we've had this one little fucker who is far too crafty for mere mouse traps.
He's bold, too-- he comes out into the open when we're sitting there, and looks at us like, "yeah, get up and do something about it, bitches."
So I put out a trap, and he ate the peanut butter without setting it off.
So I reset it, and he ate the peanut butter without setting it off.
So I changed brands, and set out four traps in all the places that I'd seen him travelling or lurking. He ate the peanut butter off of them without setting them off.
At this point, I almost don't want to waste the little guy anymore, because I admire his mousy craft and elite-ness. My friend Stephanie said, "he's a Special Forces mouse!" -- and I think he is. Maybe there's a little mousy extraction team that picks him up at night, and he's giving them intel on our movements and sleeping habits in advance of some kind of mouse raid on our foodstuffs.
They'll probably blow up any food they can't carry away.
I almost want to let the little guy live. But instead I'm going to escalate mouse traps, buying the more expensive and deadly versions until we get him. I'm not excited about it, because I love the underdog . . . even when I am attempting to liquidate him.
He's bold, too-- he comes out into the open when we're sitting there, and looks at us like, "yeah, get up and do something about it, bitches."
So I put out a trap, and he ate the peanut butter without setting it off.
So I reset it, and he ate the peanut butter without setting it off.
So I changed brands, and set out four traps in all the places that I'd seen him travelling or lurking. He ate the peanut butter off of them without setting them off.
At this point, I almost don't want to waste the little guy anymore, because I admire his mousy craft and elite-ness. My friend Stephanie said, "he's a Special Forces mouse!" -- and I think he is. Maybe there's a little mousy extraction team that picks him up at night, and he's giving them intel on our movements and sleeping habits in advance of some kind of mouse raid on our foodstuffs.
They'll probably blow up any food they can't carry away.
I almost want to let the little guy live. But instead I'm going to escalate mouse traps, buying the more expensive and deadly versions until we get him. I'm not excited about it, because I love the underdog . . . even when I am attempting to liquidate him.
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Steve Smith's Humane Mousetrap.
I've never tried it, but it looks like it just might work. Then you could see if he (or she) wears a little black hood or night vision googles. Or not. Just watch out for the mouse-sized throwing stars.