A Mice Mess

Or, “Why I Had To Buy Mouse Traps”

Or Even, “Why All My Feed Is Now In Metal Trash Cans”

The cotton fields are picked over and the leaves are falling. The weather is getting nippy, so out in the country, the wild things are looking for winter shelter. In most cases, that doesn’t have much effect on the farm, with one notable exception. Field Mice.

For these little critters, a nice, snug mouse house is a big plus for surviving frigid weather. Every fall, some of them try to move inside buildings, so it wasn’t too surprising to find several field mice had set up housekeeping in the feed room. From their point of view, they’d discovered an ideal condo. No more cold wind. No more wet. Best of all, there was a stockpile of food handy, and even a big pile of baling twine to make delightfully cozy nests. What more could a mouse want?

There’s a wide variety of feeds in there, but the mice seem partial to the black oil sunflower seeds. They not only make a luscious snack, but pack a high protein punch for lots of energy. These sunflower seeds also have oil to promote a nice sleek pelt, creating the most lush fur coats seen on mice yet!  (Anybody want to try a nice mouse fur coat?  Come see me!)

Considering they chewed a hole in the bottom of a big fifty pound sack, it would also seem like a never ending supply of food.

In short, the mice were in hog heaven… uh…. mouse heaven. (Mice Mirvana?) What enraptured rodents! Such merry mice! They were in the domicile of their dreams.

However, upon surveying the havoc they’d created, I had trouble thinking of them as cute little critters. Phrases like “raunchy rodents” and “miserable monsters” seemed more appropriate as I surveyed the chaos. The remains of their feasts were evident everywhere, with piles of sunflower seed hulls, and little “calling cards” of digested material scattered profusely. The smell of mouse urine pervaded the air. In short, a real mega-mouse mess.

Since the ogre human – me – didn’t want mice in the feed room, with the nasty mess and possible disease factor, I figured it was time to clean house and give the mice an eviction notice.

This meant moving big sacks of feed around, which is a great exercise work out. Even just scooting 50 pound sacks takes some doing for less muscular types like me. Sweeping up the debris also makes for pretty good calisthenics. The only problem is it meant keeping the door open to clear out the refuse. The sheep and goats know full well where the feed is, and wanted to poke their heads in and try snagging a little snack. Every time I’d try to sweep something out, my broom would come in contact with inquisitive noses. Finally, I set a big cart in front of the door to keep the wooly “pigs” at bay.

Even the mice became bold as I moved stuff around, and scampered all over the premises, no doubt enraged that I should be so unkind as to move their food sources, and throw out their nesting materials.

I’d work on one side, they’d go to the other. Every time I moved a sack, a mouse went running. A couple of them even tried mountain climbing up the crevice between a feed sack and plastic bin.

After spending a beautiful afternoon clearing out such a nasty mouse-made mess, I decided it’s time these meandering eating machines met a different sort of creature. Perhaps a little mouse mayhem would be in order, created by adding a new resident to the feed room.

Mice, guess who’s coming to dinner?
Time to meet… CATZILLA.
Bon appétit.