I tossed this up as a tweet yesterday:
First rule of mice: never assume there's only one in the house. (I just dispatched the second with ill-disguised glee.)
— Charles G Hill (@dustbury) October 28, 2015
But, as always, the story is a bit more complicated than that.
The first mouse of the season made several trips in and out of the house, through a thinned-out section of weatherstripping on the door that leads to the garage. A couple of observations revealed his M.O.; I parked a glue board on the far side of the door, where he couldn’t see it and couldn’t miss it. Time from trap emplacement to actual trap: less than half an hour. I duly patched up the weatherstripping.
It was only then that I discovered that he’d had a comrade, and that I’d blocked the comrade’s escape route: he would hang around the house for three days before I figured out the best place for the board. And it got him, within ten minutes.
Unfortunately, the board was inside the house, and the little twerp gave out with an ear-piercing cry. For a moment there I asked myself: “What have I done?” Wouldn’t planting some toxins around the house have done the job just as well? A comment from a neighbor persuades me otherwise:
If you have mice and pets, please don’t use poison. If you have no pets, check with your neighbors and see if they have pets before putting out poison. I lost one of my dogs yesterday from some kind of poisoning and the vet thinks it’s probably rat poison. You can’t control where the rodent dies, and dogs love to eat them.
Perhaps I need to disguise my glee a bit more effectively.