It must be hardwired into them. Killing things is generally not something we tend to encourage around our house. You know, besides things like germs and
giant helicopters mosquitoes and houseflies whenever possible, we really try to avoid killing things. Last year when we discovered we had a few four legged boarders of the rodent variety we even went and stupidly bought humane traps.
The minute we caught one we were suddenly struck with the idiocy of buying humane traps for vermin and pests. It makes no sense but deep down we must be part buddhist or something (okay, so we aren’t at all.) Something possessed us anyways in order to make us buy those darn humane traps. We ended up leaving the poor mouse in the trap to either starve or freeze to death, neither of which is very humane at all. Nowhere near as human as a quick snap of the neck whilst happily snacking on a piece of heavenly cheese. I mean… as far as a mouse is concerned I bet that’s a pretty nice way to go… quickly while eating a piece of non-moldy cheese. It’s probably akin to going quietly in your sleep in the human world. (All of you mouse lovers and mouse owners are probably crying and gnashing your teeth at me right now as you think about poor little Squeakers. I’m so sorry. It gets worse so turn back now if you want to save yourself anymore heartache.)
Recently our boys have discovered that our front and back yards as well as the neighbor’s front and back yards have become heavily populated with the squeaky, beady eyed little beasts. We decided today that something had to be done about them. We were going to set traps upon our return home from the longest trip to Ikea that we have ever taken.
Well, we never quite got the chance to set the traps because our sons, upon seeing the mice, quickly grabbed the nearest implements of torture that they could find and began hunting the mice. I think there must be something deep within the male DNA that send surges of testosterone through their bodies when they hunt and kill wild beasts… no matter the size.
My 8 year old slayed the first mouse and oh, the rejoicing… the rapture and pride and chest beating was enough to put William Wallace to shame. Really. If we had war paint on hand, I’m sure the boys would have all stripped off their shirts and covered themselves in it.
I’m telling you, these kids are better than cats. (It helps that these seem to be particularly slow mice.)
This excitement, the screaming, the pointing, the shaking of sticks and other long blunt instruments was enough to draw in several of the neighbor boys. Before we knew it, this was becoming a community effort. There were now 6 boys on the job.
I’ve never seen them so determined.
They were working together. They were a team. They were unified.
I may never witness this kind of cooperation again. I’ve heard farm kids get along better with each other than city kids.
I think I believe it. I need a farm to move into my neighborhood because I’m just not going to be able to move to a farm any time soon.
Did I mention that my son’s middle name is SHOWNOMERCY? It is. Really.
They took out another… And the hunt continued…
Meanwhile, being a girl, I became rather sidetracked… Ooooh… look at the Dragonfly…
Look… he’s staring at me…
Meanwhile, the boys were concentrating on killing more mice.
But then there was this small matter of what to do with the tiny carcasses once they were… carcasses. The Pastor took care of that in a jiffy with the pooper scooper.
This did not signal the end though… No… there were more mice. We just knew it. There was nothing to be done but stand and wait until they scurried out of their hiding places. Nose to the grindstone. Never, never, never give up. NEVER!
Whoa… who the heck is that hot hunk of a man? Mouse shmouse. What mouse?
Okay, but back on task… What was I saying? Never, never give up. Never get side tracked. Stay on task to the bitter end!
Oooh, look…. pretty flowers!
My attention span can sometimes be lacking.
I was so proud of them. They killed three mice and my 8 year old tells me that he whacked another one real good but unfortunately it must have just fainted. We decided to water the flowers and chased another one to its hole with the water turned to JET and then we filled the hole with water and covered it with dirt. Cruel isn’t it? Get over it. They are vermin! (I’ve come a long way people. I used to keep rats as pets!)
Judging by how many mice we saw out there, I think there will probably be a couple more battles with the Mice. But between the traps (the new non-humane ones I’m happy to report) and these wee hunters of mine, I think we may have them licked before too long.