The hunters enter with a glint in their eye. Their faces are set, in determination.
There is also a small glimmer of hope, at the corners of their eyes, both that they will today catch the hunted, and that the hunted will escape, to be hunted again.
They are prepared for battle. They carry their weaponry proudly, in the same manner as the generations that have gone before them. The elder hunter teaches the 2 younger hunters how to read animal signs and prepare for the hunt. Traps are set- further weapons are readied. Together, they search out the hunted. Every fiber of their beings- tense and waiting for action.
They are not on an African Savanna, They are not deep in the jungle or in a forest of untold age and depth….. they are in my garage. They are hunting mice. Not exactly big game. However, you’d think they were slaying dragons the way they proclaim “ANOTHER ONE!” With pride.
They are ridding the world of field mice, one mouse at a time. And they are driving me nuts. It has meant- 3 trips to Home Depot for traps of varying types and prices… nearly a full jar of peanut-butter (The little guy suggested adding jelly- as he prefers PBJ’s to plain peanut butter;) And a number of fake smiles, as I pretend to be thrilled with the results of their “hunt”. At least they aren’t trying to make me look at it…. they just want me aware of their “score”… At the moment I believe it is 6.
Although, I’m a little concerned over their enjoyment of the sport, I’m also quite glad this isn’t one aspect of Spring cleaning that I have to take care of. My approach would be to attempt to catch the mice alive- and let them go-somewhere far, far away– which would involve my physical proximity to said mice–putting them into some kind of chew-proof container- and then DRIVING them to the “country.” Not gonna happen.
I think I’ll leave this one to my guys.
All hail the conquering heroes!…..Hunters of mice.
No pic today, as I just don’t have the heart to post mousey cuteness…. it’s too sad.
*****every spring the mice try to move into the garage…. every spring it results in mouse carnage of domestic proportions….will they never learn? Apparently, not.
PS—- men are weird.