It wasn’t supposed to come to this.
When we moved here I wanted to create a wildlife sanctuary, everything living together in a little patch of paradise, happily ever after. Dream on girl.
A line has been crossed.
Remember the lovely Campanula? The one that only a few short days ago headlined the July Bloomers post?
We’d only had it a week. It cost me dear but it’s not just the money. It had three glorious flower spikes packed full of blooms and it was my pride and joy in the newly rearranged terraced beds.
I’d been worried about slugs but I don’t think it was them. The leaves have been nibbled just a little too evenly, not the ragged and slimy ends that are the usual hallmark of a mollusc visitation.
It’s not Ptolemy’s normal style either. The pheasant’s annoying habit is to just peck off the flowers and cast them aside, intact, on the ground.
No, this time everything has been carefully cleared away. Devoured. On the spot.
I am sorry mouse lovers, but I have tried. If you’ve followed this blog for any length of time you’ll know how hard I’ve tried.
We’ve persisted with live catch traps for in excess of two years, transporting the mice at least two miles distant after a nice ride in the car. But they are clever. They learnt how to get into the trap, scoff the peanut butter sandwiches hidden therein and then scarper, leaving only crumbs in their wake.
And so the ‘Little Nippers’ have been deployed.
As Mike was laying out the first one there was a ‘Snap’. I waited for the yowl, but there was none. Did he catch his finger in the mouse trap? No. But it was a close run thing.
To illustrate the extent of our problem Mike caught 12, yes twelve, in the first twenty four hours alone. With just two traps. That’s a lot of emptying. And this time we know for sure it’s not the same one coming back.
It’s not what I wanted. All I can say is, it’s quick. Hopefully preferable to being toyed with for several minutes before being torn apart by an owl or a cat.
What else to do?