I had a mouse.

He was living in my kitchen for a week or so.

I got some great no-kill traps from Home Depot. Small gray
plastic boxes with a gravity lid that stays open while the
trap is tilted forward, but slips shut once it tilts back.

Exactly these:

http://doitbest.com/shop/product.asp...386&sku=769878

Caught the little bugger twice, actually.

But not without some tweaking.

Originally, I'd heard scratching noises, like small teeth
on old pasta, coming from under the oven. And I saw little
black caraway seed-shaped rodent spoor under the sink.

That's how I knew I was being visited, and then I bought
the traps. Less than $4 for a 2-pack.

At first, I tried some Caciqe Asadero, terrific mexican
melting cheese, practically a cheese spread in its raw
form, really. Beautiful for perfectly smooth cheese sauce.

I put a few grams in each of traps and braced the baseboard
either side of the oven with them, so he couldn't miss.

Next morning, one lid had fallen, but maybe it just fell
on its own, because the cheese was inside and the mouse
wasn't. The balance on these was tricky and the slightest
touch would unset them.

And then I didn't hear him anywhere, so I figured he'd left,
so I put the traps away.

A couple of days later, I heard scratching noises again.

So I reset the traps, with Stilton, hoping that unlike the
mild Asadero it would have the aroma of rot and depth that
a mouse would seek out.

Half an hour later, sitting on the sofa, I heard a lid fall.

I went to the kitchen, lifted the trap and something jumped
inside.

But, curious like any cat, I wanted to see my prey.
So I grabbed a handy (dirty) 1-quart pyrex measuring
cup, and a heavy book (The Art of Eating, by MFK Fisher).
I placed the book over the cup, save an inch for the mouth
of the trap. I opened the trap. In the same motion, the
mouse fell from the trap, turned, and leapt out through the
tiny space remaining. He caromed off the toaster oven,
flew to the floor, tried the trash can as a hiding spot,
found no opening underneath, then turned and made for
the refrigerator. Total time to escape to invisibility:
about 0.7 seconds.

Left me standing, agape, trap and book in hand.

Damn.

There I named him. Zippy the Wonder Mouse.

I refilled the traps with store-brand cheddar (still
experimenting rather than just going with what works),
and this morning, one of the traps was sprung but empty.
I'd left the rather large chunks of cheddar an inch or
so from the back of the trap, so as to avoid having them
simply tilt themselves, but clearly, that was a mistake.
He'd reached in and got the bait, then had room to get
out without the lid dropping far enough to lock shut.

Bugger.

No more mister nice mouser.

I didn't hear anything, so I figured he had left again.
I looked through all the cabinets and drawers, and man,
mice can really make the jimmies when they want to.
My main gadget drawer was a mess. I unloaded everything
into the dishwasher, plus all the pans from one cabinet
that had several nodules in it, and ran a heavy-wash cycle
(3 hours of washing and rinsing in my Maytag MDB7600).

Then I took the Chlorox Cleanup to the drawers and cabinets.
One thing desert folk need to be careful of with rodents
is Hantavirus, so I soaked and let set before I wiped.

About dinnertime, I heard rattlings in an empty kitchen.

I went in and turned on the light, and saw the little grey
pischer run behind the microwave.

I got the traps, put just a pinch of Stilton in each, and
boxed him in.

Ten minutes later, I heard what could only be the long
wooden chopstick I'd set next to the sink. Ten feet from
the microwave.

Boshemoi! He'd walked right past the traps!

I went back into the kitchen, and he was nowhere to be found.

So returned to my movie, and waited.

Twenty more minutes, and aha! The sound of a lid dropping,
and tiny frustrations rising.

I tiptoed in, lifted the tripped trap, and sure enough,
it had a resident rodent.

Having no reason to care to see what he looked like a
second time, I slipped on my shoes and dropped him out of
the trap into the dark in the ditch beyond the backyard
fence.

Maybe the rabbits will adopt him before the snakes and
coyotes do.

--Blair
"This ain't no Habitrail."