Skip to main content

Of Mice and Men, Again

Half-conscious, I woke in the middle of the night to do what many people do when they wake in the middle of the night. As I washed my hands, I noticed for an instant a dark-colored object that seemed to fall from the ceiling. I turned, as quickly as a languid person can, and saw it. It scurried quickly from behind my trash bin, compressed its body, and squeezed itself under the door. I leaped. I hadn't been that frightened in a long time. Then I realized what I had seen. It was a mouse, and I had been invaded.

I looked around a bit, then thought little more about it as I went back to sleep. To be fair, I was fairly tired, and I knew the small beast was probably well-hidden by now and not likely to show its face. The next morning, I looked further, and found no further evidence, but resolved to set traps after work.

After learning that the sticky traps I purchased were inhumane, I procured lever traps. In these, a mouse enters the door to eat the bait, only to find the door-- a see-saw lever-- trap it from behind. I set it that night with peanut butter as my bait, and woke the next morning to find the deed so far done. The mouse had taken the bait and was tucked comfortably-- if fearfully-- in a corner of the trap.

Still, I was too short-sighted to think through my next move. I placed oatmeal in a plastic bag and resolved to dump my new friend in and thereafter transfer him to my garbage bin (I know, it sounds mean to throw a mouse away, but I wasn't going to let it reenter the house). The mouse outsmarted me, however. It hung for dear life as I shook the trap more and more vigorously over the bag, until finally the mouse fell. It did not fall as I had planned, however, for it clung then to one side of the bag, leaped to the outside with its mouse hind legs, fell to the floor, and scurried under my stove. I had failed, and what was to be a short, twelve-hour battle became a protracted war. The score was now thus:

Tony: 1 (having trapped him)
Mouse: 1 (having escaped with such guile)

That night, I set the same trap again, hoping the mouse would fall for it a second time. It did, and this time I took him outside and dropped him without guilt into the garbage bin, where he will reside with the oatmeal I placed inside until garbage day.

I learned that mice are voracious, that they defecate profusely, are nocturnal, and can climb incredible heights with their powerful legs, aside from knowing they like to remain along the walls. More important, perhaps, I also learned fear, failure, and triumph as I faced an enemy no larger than the head of a tablespoon.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Heroes

Although we have several examples of heroes in our day, one of the best known is of a woman named Agnes Gonxhe Bojaxhiu (“Gonja Bojaju”), who devoted her life to sustaining the “poor, sick, orphaned, and dying.” Her venue was Calcutta, India, where she served as a teacher until she began to take notice of the poverty there. Seeking to do something about it, she began an organization that consisted of just thirteen members at its inception. Called the “Missionaries of Charity,” the organization would eventually burgeon into well over 5,000 members worldwide, running approximately 600 missions, schools and shelters in 120 countries; and caring for the orphaned, blind, aged, disabled, and poor. As her personal work expanded, she traveled to countries like Lebanon, where she rescued 37 children from a hospital by pressing for peace between Israel and Palestine; to Ethiopia, where she traveled to help the hungry; to Chernobyl, Russia, to assist victims of the nuclear meltdown there; and to ...
2 comments
Read more

The Nice Guy Fallacy

I read part of a poem recently by one of my favorite poets. It reads: I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage The linnet born within the cage That never knew the summer woods. I envy not the beast that takes His license in the field of time Unfetter'd by the sense of crime To whom a conscience never wakes. Nor what may call itself as bles't The heart that never plighted troth But stagnates in the weeds of sloth Nor any want-begotten rest. I hold it true, whate'er befall I feel it, when I sorrow most 'Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all. At base, Tennyson contrasted a life of risk, and consequent pain, with one of security. He sides conclusively with the life of risk, and says he fails to envy those who have faced no hardship. I agree with him; and, for good or ill, his words are just as relevant today as they were in the nineteenth century. Like then, there are those today who choose to live their lives with as little risk as...
2 comments
Read more

Comparative Medical Care

One thing I'd like to understand is why there is such a difference between medical costs here and those in Haiti. At the time the book Mountains Beyond Mountains was written, in 2003, it often cost $15,000 to $20,000 annually to treat a patient with tuberculosis, while it cost one one-hundredth of that-- $150 to $200-- to treat a patient for the disease in Haiti. Even if the figures aren't completely accurate, the sheer difference would still be there. Indeed, the United States pays more per capita for medical care than any other country on Earth. My first guess for why the disparity exists is that there is a market willing and able to pay more for medical treatment, so suppliers see the demand and respond with higher prices. According to at least one doctor (go to http://scienceblogs.com/denialism/2009/05/what_is_the_cause_of_excess_co.php), part of the reason is administrative prices here. People here have a higher standard of living, and so the cost of care is shifted to ...
2 comments
Read more