ffled as to how to rescue him/her. Any suggestions?As you can see, he/she has burrowed out a positive stately home below the roots of the long-suffering petunias in the window-box! What I'm beginning to wonder (and worry) is whether there could be more than one mouse? True, I only saw one, but what if there were a whole family of them hiding in the background?
As for the trip-trap that should be solving all my difficulties, I've a nasty suspicion that it may be too small. Do you think they sold me an 'ant-trap' instead of a 'mouse-trap'? Whatever the reasons, the trap - set with stilton and cranberry as instructed- has proved a positive Mecca for the ants, but of no interest whatsoever to the elusive mouse! I've just closed the trap door down for the evening, perhaps in the morning, when it's more familiar with this strange arrival, the mouse will venture in.
You don’t think so . . . ? No . . . to be honest, nor do I!
(a week later)
Straw was a wonderful idea on your part, but, as with all things concerned with my window-sill wildlife, it posed problems!
"Straw . . . " I asked hopefully at the pet shop.
The assistant disappeared and returned staggering under a bale that would have bedded down a small pony.
I looked at it aghast . . . where could I put such a quantity . . . under the bed . . . ?
"It's only one small mouse . . . " I said (in point of fact it could be more than one, but this didn't seem the moment to burden her with my difficulties).
She looked at me, a little pityingly, and led me to the supply of stores at the back of the shop. Here were vast bales of straw . . . but also, I noticed with relief, smaller bales that were labelled 'Organic Hay'.
"I'll have the hay," I told her.
Back at the cash-till, waiting to pay, I noticed a pile of packets. Inside were small red, cubes which, so the packets claimed, were carrot-flavoured vitamin chews for rodents.
What the hell . . . in for a penny . . . so I bought a packet of those as well!
My mouse (mice?) has now cost me seven pounds in hay and vitamin pills, but at least I'll have peace of mind during the next downpour!
LATER
From the depths of a snug, hay-lined, up-turned flower-pot, the mouse asks me to give you his/her heartfelt gratitude.
After all, as long as the mouse is happy (which it seems to be), why shouldn't it enjoy a long and happy life on my window-sill? No predators, a constant supply of nourishing food, hay to curl up in, strange human figures to wonder at through the window . . . perhaps the whole thing was a carefully planned coup? Not so much an accident as a planned invasion of squatters!
I'll keep you posted!
