There’s a mouse in my studio. I opened one of my desk drawers to get a scrap of fabric and saw the shredded batting and feces. I pulled out the three drawers on that side of the desk and saw the 100% cotton batting nest. I couldn’t reach it, so I got a stick to clean it out. That’s when I saw the mouse on one of the drawer runners, it’s cute face looking at me. I went for the tail, but it slipped through my fingers and the mouse disappeared somewhere inside the desk.
I pulled out the rest of the drawers finding chewed crayons, papers, batting and feces and urine in each one. I wished I was quicker and had held on tighter to that mouses tail.
I learned not to tolerate mice in my house my first winter in upstate NY. I don’t know how many mice were in that house. I started with Have-a-heart traps but when I found the droppings in the fruit bowl and on the stove I got out the traps and eventually the poison. I was horrified when I found one of my shoes filled with the blue pellets. The poor mice were actually saving the poison to eat when they got hungry. It seemed so wrong to me, worse somehow than killing them quickly in a trap. But ultimately, as bad as I felt and as awful as the smell of dead mice in the walls was, it was a relief not to have them running across my kitchen countertops.
Now I keep seeing that scared little mouse with it’s big black eyes staring at me from deep inside my desk. I know I can’t have it making a nest of my fabrics and leaving it’s droppings around the studio. I thought of giving Mother a go at it, but I think the traps are more humane. I used to volunteer at a bird sanctuary and we would raise mice to feed to the injured owls. I watched as the Park Ranger gave one chop a mouses neck killing it instantly.
A part of me wants to pretend it isn’t happening and just hope the mouse will go away. But I’ve already been ignoring the droppings on my book shelf for a few days. So I will set the traps tonight. And hopefully, in the morning, I’ll be able to leave the mouses body in the pasture for someones breakfast.