To A Mouse … Robert Burns
Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,
Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee
Wi' murd'ring pattle!
The cultivated fields of Scotland are far removed from the Outback of Australia. Today, to me, their common denominator is the humble mouse. I could easily use stronger adjectives as the activities of the furry gray/brown, four legged, and bright-eyed, long tailed creatures that roam the kitchen of this hotel have indeed irked me.
When I first arrived the sight of rat poison lain in strategic places barely caused me to raise an eyebrow … better poison bait than a trap. A trap needs emptying, and while the little mouse is hardly my best friend, emptying a stiff corpse is not one of my favourite chores. I understood the mice that had partaken of the green poisonous capsules crept away to some dark place and quietly left this life. I now know I was wrong in that assumption! They lie around in a stupor until they expire. Then they have to be disposed of!
I have swept up dead mice from the four corners and disposed of the corpse; I have stumbled across a dopey mouse, only hours from death, and helped it on its way, then disposed of it. Once a mouse sat crouched on the floor near the stove, and I hurried to get the broom … to help it on its way. When I returned it hadn’t moved an eyelid. I touched it with the broom [murder was not in my mind] and the mouse fell forward onto its face; life was extinct. It too was disposed of.
One would never imagine the task of a kitchen hand, come breakfast cook, included the disposal of mice. Disposing of them is preferable to walking around them, or indeed tramping upon them unexpectedly! There are few options, especially when I am the only person likely to be in the kitchen for the next several hours.
Over the last two or three days the mice that have made the kitchen part of their territory have been lively, frisky, and full of energy. It slowly dawned upon me that the rat bait must be depleted. Time for a new meal! This morning, after washing down all the shelves and removing all visible traces of mice infestation I opened new bait and carefully placed it in what, I sincerely trust, is a very strategic place!
I told the boss we needed more bait. He said that the mice at the moment are particularly bad and that everyone is complaining. It was only last week that the Pest Control men stayed in the hotel and their presence in our community was solely to eradicate mice and rats. Thankfully I have seen no sign of rats! That would be a different story as there is no way I would consider it my duty to dispose of them!
I daresay mice are of some use on this planet, though to be completely honest I am not sure that I can come up with one. I know that scientists breed them to experiment on, and while these wee tim'rous beasties may not be the type of pet I prefer, neither do I agree with creating a life with the intention of taking it in a laboratory. But that is another debate!
The bait takes three to seven days to work, if the placement is strategic enough. Until I start noticing dopey, sluggish mice I cannot be positive the bait is working, or indeed if I have laid enough. I have written Rat Bait on the shopping list!
When I first arrived the sight of rat poison lain in strategic places barely caused me to raise an eyebrow … better poison bait than a trap. A trap needs emptying, and while the little mouse is hardly my best friend, emptying a stiff corpse is not one of my favourite chores. I understood the mice that had partaken of the green poisonous capsules crept away to some dark place and quietly left this life. I now know I was wrong in that assumption! They lie around in a stupor until they expire. Then they have to be disposed of!
I have swept up dead mice from the four corners and disposed of the corpse; I have stumbled across a dopey mouse, only hours from death, and helped it on its way, then disposed of it. Once a mouse sat crouched on the floor near the stove, and I hurried to get the broom … to help it on its way. When I returned it hadn’t moved an eyelid. I touched it with the broom [murder was not in my mind] and the mouse fell forward onto its face; life was extinct. It too was disposed of.
One would never imagine the task of a kitchen hand, come breakfast cook, included the disposal of mice. Disposing of them is preferable to walking around them, or indeed tramping upon them unexpectedly! There are few options, especially when I am the only person likely to be in the kitchen for the next several hours.
Over the last two or three days the mice that have made the kitchen part of their territory have been lively, frisky, and full of energy. It slowly dawned upon me that the rat bait must be depleted. Time for a new meal! This morning, after washing down all the shelves and removing all visible traces of mice infestation I opened new bait and carefully placed it in what, I sincerely trust, is a very strategic place!
I told the boss we needed more bait. He said that the mice at the moment are particularly bad and that everyone is complaining. It was only last week that the Pest Control men stayed in the hotel and their presence in our community was solely to eradicate mice and rats. Thankfully I have seen no sign of rats! That would be a different story as there is no way I would consider it my duty to dispose of them!
I daresay mice are of some use on this planet, though to be completely honest I am not sure that I can come up with one. I know that scientists breed them to experiment on, and while these wee tim'rous beasties may not be the type of pet I prefer, neither do I agree with creating a life with the intention of taking it in a laboratory. But that is another debate!
The bait takes three to seven days to work, if the placement is strategic enough. Until I start noticing dopey, sluggish mice I cannot be positive the bait is working, or indeed if I have laid enough. I have written Rat Bait on the shopping list!
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