[Warning: skip this post if you are feeling squeamish!]
This morning’s planned programme was slightly disrupted at home by the discover of a furry small, unexpected problem. Jane called me downstairs and said she had seen a rat. I thought she meant in the garden but then she pointed me to the front room!
After I’d armed myself with a stick and poked round for a few minutes looking for something rat-sized, she explained that she meant a mouse. Not quite as scary but definitely not a welcome guest to our house. I didn’t find it but I did find a pile of seed husks under one of the arm chairs so we knew something was hiding in there.
We have been keeping a couple of mousetraps in the polytunnel since some of our early plantings of beans and sunflowers were stolen away. A trap sounds cruel but I am not convinced that alternatives, like poison or “humanely” catching rodents and rehoming them (ie. abandoning in a hostile, unfamiliar environment, exposed to nature’s red tooth and claw) is any better for dealing with the problem. They hadn’t caught anything in the polytunnel although we also hadn’t had a repeat of that problem. We brought them in and, before I set off for work, this is what I found:
I wonder if we will catch any more?