It was a lovely Mother's Day after all. I had Sunday Morning Coffee with Thelma, Betsy K. and Beth, feeling low. We bring one another a potted plant on Mother's Day. I didn't have plants to bring because yesterday's plant-digging included 3 large, well-established hostas (which is the same as digging 40 lb rocks). I severely pulled a muscle in my already none-too-happy back and spent the better part of the afternoon (when I had planned to get the plants) shuttling between the hottest shower I could stand and the very large cold pack that lives in the freezer. It looks like 3 Advil 3 or 4 times a day will go on for a second week, maybe more.
Then I realized that after the generator goes in this Friday I will have to find a place for the plants I dug up, and I know I will have leftovers. So I will take those plants to our next coffee. Thus, in a better frame of mind, I left Thelma's, stopped briefly for groceries, and set off to see my friends George and Gail Africa in Plainfield, because today is opening day of their Vermont Flower Farm. I see George regularly on FB, but it's always good to see your friends in person. I managed to limit my buying to three plants, and then on the way back followed a sign down a back road to a farm that was selling plants and seedlings of all sorts, including (ta-daah) well-started delphinium, thyme, and rosemary. The delphiniums will replace the ones that died in the winter (with the roses) and the thyme and rosemary will replace the ones that I tried to winter over in the house, unsuccessfully.
Seeing friends and buying plants is a nice way to spend a few Mother's Day hours, and I came home to put away the groceries and then plant the newcomers. I opened the base cabinet door to the trash can and saw a mouse. A very small mouse. And obviously a baby mouse because it stared back at me. Ever since Ernie died, I have been bothered by mice, and mouse bait is not doing the job. For those who want to know, this is the White-Footed Mouse, not to be confused with the Deer Mouse, which is brown. I looked it up.
I quietly closed the base cabinet door and looked for a container. The only thing close at hand that wasn't a saucepan (yucky thought) was a plastic nursery pot on the porch that had some rocks and a fair amount of dirt in it, and was deep enough that Mousie couldn't climb out. Armed with the pot and a whisk broom, I opened the cupboard door quietly. I was truly astonished to find that Mousie was still there, and had retreated behind the Bon Ami cleanser. I slowly moved the cleanser and Mousie retreated to a spot between the side of the cabinet and the small shallow box containing Windex, Fantastik, the floor cleaner, etc. I slowly moved the shallow box and Mousie began to get worried. I carefully put the plastic nursery pot in a strategic location at the bottom edge of the cabinet and moved the whisk broom toward Mousie.
The whisk broom started Mousie in the right direction. Unfortunately, the whisk broom has tiny bristles (the better to sweep with). The bristles caught in Mousie's fur and instead of being whisked into the pot, Mousie was whisked onto the kitchen floor.
A mature mouse would have disappeared in an instant. Mousie led me on a chase across the kitchen floor and behind the computer room door, with me unsuccessfully wielding the whisk broom. I cornered Mousie behind the door, Mousie sniffed the whisk broom and climbed aboard, and was unceremoniously dumped into the pot. Needless to say, there was a fair amount of nursery pot dirt and a couple of rocks on the floor by this time.
Outside we went to a corner of the yard. I put the pot down and Mousie just hunkered down and sat. I went indoors to get the camera and when I came back out Mousie was still there. So I took the pictures posted here, of Mousie in the pot. The pix are a little out of focus because I didn't have time to figure out depth of field, etc. Then I moved the rocks (the largest, which Mousie is not on, is only 4" long), and Mousie went out one of the drain holes and sat in the grass. That last picture is REALLY out of focus but you can see how tiny the mouse was.
Some readers will suggest that I should've whacked Mousie with a shovel, and considering that mice are disease carriers, and are vectors for Lyme Disease, I guess I should have. But Mousie sat in the base cabinet and looked at me. Couldn't do it. Couldn't even think of doing it.
I'll sweep up the dirt, but before the floor gets washed, I must get those new plants in the ground. We just had a thunderstorm, the ground is soaked, there's no better time. The floor gets washed later ...
Very cute mousie! I'm sure he would have thanked you if he could have. Years ago some building was done across the street, and all those mice hiked across to our back yard (well, not all of them, but a few). Licorice, who was one of our cats then, loved it. When a cat wants to bring friends for dinner, it doesn't mean what you'd think it might mean. She could meow innocently at the back door without revealing that she had a live mouse in her mouth. I would scoop the little guys up, tell them, "Warn your family not to come to this yard - there are CATS here," and let them go. Most of our kitties have just wanted to play with mice, not munch on them. But you have another good reason to hire an Ernie successor.
ReplyDeleteErnie played with them to a fault. Then he snacked. He would bring one to the door, but he could meow his regular meow with his mouth full. So I always knew.
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