By Shawnee Baldwin – August 8, 2024
To kill or not to kill. That is the question.
As much as I am drawn to work for the environment, peace and nonviolence, and have compassion for living creatures, last year in April, war was declared, by me, in my own home! I was invaded. I discovered weapons of mass destruction. I was under attack.
The mice (or is it just one mouse) made it abundantly clear that they like the interior of my home – even though I turn off the heat most of the year and could barely type this for a May writing assignment as my fingers were so cold. The evidence included an actual sighting of the “enemy” cowering in a paper bowl inside my massive green junk mail composting bin – had he? she? fallen in and could not scale the slippery foot high side of the bin? I was not about to put my hand in there to help the mouse out, so I just put the whole bin outside on my front step on its side to allow a dignified escape and a probable quick dash back into my house through a hole I hadn’t noticed, seen, or been able to plug up. And then I went back to bed as the scrunching noise made by my intruder was gone.
But the next morning as I opened the cabinet the mayhem wrought before getting caught in the bin was evident. There was a whole shelf strewn with thin strips of wrappers from peanut butter jars and a can of chickpeas. A small bin that housed sauce or dressing containers from takeout food was filled with holes and plastic shreds. A drawer where I kept individually packaged tea in paper and aluminum wrappers was awash with loose tea, strips of chewed wrappers, and lots of poop.
I swear I have had more mice issues since I had hired – and soon fired – a pest service. I found out that if mice die outside as the result of rodenticides and are eaten by birds of prey, such as owls and hawks or foxes or a dog, if I had one, it could kill them too. Perhaps the traps the pest people set out were more of a HomeTown Buffet that attracted mice and all their free loading relatives. Anyway, I was torn between the cute, animated depiction of mice as portrayed in the movie Ratatouille or the book I happened to pick up and read during this ongoing saga, The Tale of Despereaux (a mouse kicked out of his tribe for not conforming falls in love with the Princess Pea) and what may or may not be a health issue. These mice are clearly not meat eaters but junk food addicts – crayons, candles, plastic, glue under the wrappers. Will their poop harm me? And no, I’m not eating it.
So, now what? The mice were warned that if I saw evidence of their presence, it would not end well for them. Do I set traps and waste my peanut butter while luring an animal to their death? Do I set out -again- those poison trays filled with blue pellets that sent then to seek water and then eat through my PVC pipe causing a major leak in the basement? Or mock me by finding those blue pellets on top of manilla folders in a file cabinet like we were playing hide and seek?
How do I declare war on a species that is just doing what they need to do to survive even if it is on junk food and tea? Were they tearing up napkins to make a nest? I am not an expert on mouse behavior, so I put all my food – even those in glass jars or cans into a Tupperware container after finding a granola bar half gone over night. I put cardboard spaghetti boxes and bags of granola in the refrigerator. I can no longer deny that the mice are way too comfortable living with me. I can’t live side-by-side peacefully with something that eats my food, doesn’t clean up its mess, or mocks me by nibbling away while I’m in the next room with the light on. HELP! Sanctions didn’t work. Asking them to stay outside didn’t work. I’m not as persuasive as St. Francis. I don’t know if it’s just one overachiever or a whole desperate family, but they have overstayed their welcome. Someone suggested a cat. Can you rent a cat? Because I don’t want any other creature in my home that requires my attention.
That I have written this much about a ninja, stealth “enemy” lets you know my dilemma. I’m trying those very smelly packets that make me want to leave the house, they are so strong. And I’m throwing fresh mint in the cabinet. They may have gotten the message. But to kill or not to kill will still be the question when it gets cold outside.
And I’m struggling with a compassionate, environmentally friendly answer.
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