Minnie Marauders
A short while ago Hubby discovered he had a mouse in his garage. But he wasn’t nearly as concerned – no whining or shudders – as I would have been. If I spent as much time out there as he does, I’d be constantly checking for mouse tracks, sure that any moment the little rodent would run up my leg.
He set a trap with peanut butter as the lure and next day the mouse was no longer anyone’s problem. But we all know that mice travel in packs, like wolves, so it was no surprise a few days later when Hubby found evidence of at least one more mouse. And he wasn’t happy about it. The evidence was a gnawed corner on the bottom of the bag of birdseed and birdseed scattered all over the floor. The seed was not meant as mouse feed and Hubby figured it was rude of the minnie marauders to invite themselves to the table, taking seed right out of the mouths of the small birds that are welcome here; mice aren’t. . . . contd.
