I think we have a mouse problem in our garage.
Actually, it’s not as much of a problem as it sounds like, because it’s a detached garage.
Some of our long-time readers might remember our detached garage from an article a few years ago wherein at some point one of our kids left the garage door open a few inches and a cat came in and gave birth, and that b’H turned into a whole article and also entertainment for my kids for the rest of the summer, in that we kept the kittens in the backyard and fed them and played with them and kept hoping the mother would return for them and assuming that that was what happened as some of the kittens started randomly disappearing. And by the end of the summer, we had one kitten, which we gave to my son’s friend who had helped us with the kittens because his mother had kept saying, “Uch, I want a cat,” and his father, said, “Not in the house,” so they put it in a cage in their backyard and it was somehow gone the next morning.
So basically, whatever the function of a detached garage is—workshop, sukkah storage, cat maternity ward—it’s definitely not a place to store food. At least not people food. We store animal food in it, though. And I think that’s what’s drawing in the mice.
I don’t know if I ever mentioned this, but we have a small flock of chickens living in our backyard. And one of the things they don’t tell you about chickens is that you have to keep their food somewhere.
So for a while, I was keeping their food in the fireplace, because I’d been keeping the chickens in the fireplace, and then when the chickens moved to the backyard, I was like, “Now what am I going to keep in the fireplace?”
But that was when I was buying smaller bags of feed. Then I came across a place that was selling 50-pound bags of food for a great price—mamesh chicken feed—but it was only free shipping if we bought two bags. So 100 lbs. of food. For 3-5 chickens.
The first year that we had chickens, I refused to buy food in bulk because I was sure that as soon as we bought 100 lbs. of chicken food in one shot, all our chickens would die. And then who would eat the chicken food? But now that we’ve had chickens for over a year, I’m finding out that there are other ways Hashem can make us regret buying 100 lbs. of chicken food at once.
Basically, what happened was I walked into the garage one day to find that something had bitten holes at the bottoms of the food bags and there were trails of food leading out of them, as well as some other pellets that were not listed in the ingredients. My guess is that it’s mice, because that’s the only animal that can walk through a closed garage door. Also my hope is that it’s mice. And not something bigger. Preferably something that will dart away if I so much as look in its direction.
It also happens to be that it’s that time of the year when mice are looking for warmth and food, and there’s no warmth in the garage but there is definitely a hundred pounds of food, which is a lot for a mouse, which is why I’m worried about how many mice there might be. That and there’s a smell. Like stronger than you’d think a mouse would smell. Like I’ve never been in a house where I said, “I think you have mice. There’s a smell.” So either it might be something bigger, or it’s a significant number of mice.
Mice are actually better than bugs, in a way. Houseflies, for example, are constantly buzzing around you and standing on you and flying away and coming back when you’re trying to work. Mice pretty much stay away from you, and when you happen to see them, out of the corner of your eye, they’re already running away. In fact, if you don’t want to make it a big deal, because there are people in your house who will not take it well, you can just pretend you didn’t see them, and no one will know. After that one initial scream.
“Why did you just scream?”
“No reason.”
Mostly you’re annoyed that they chewed the bags open. Where am I going to find another bag that can hold 50 pounds of food? If the bags are open on top, why do they have to chew holes in the bottom? Is it just to make a shortcut? And if the bags are sealed, how do the mice even know that it’s food? They can’t smell it. Do they just chew everything until they find food? So I’m thinking that we’re dealing with mice who know how to read. Which is actually a fun thought, but if the mice can’t talk, I don’t really know how to monetize that.
And I don’t want to bring the food into the house, because number one, the bags are huge, and now they’re leaking, and number two, I don’t want to now lead an untold number of mice into my house.
And yes, at least they’re not eating human food. If it was a 50-lb. bag of human food and they were going through it, I would throw it out. I wouldn’t say, “Yeah, well we’re eating from the top of the bag, and they’re eating from the bottom. It’s fine.” But it’s chicken food, so I don’t know. We don’t want the chickens to get whatever diseases the mice might have. Though we always assume the mice have diseases, because they don’t go to the doctor so they are at the very least not vaccinated. As opposed to our chickens, who have never seen a doctor either, unless you count me doing my best with some ace bandages and Epsom salt and chewable aspirin. Except that the mice are apparently alive and thriving, so what makes us think they have diseases? And if they have diseases, they’re not really a problem, are they? They’re just going to die. But not before they leave whatever they have in the chicken food. Which is why it’s actually better that they’re biting holes in the bottom of the bag rather than jumping in the top and adding ingredients. I think I’m so smart, but the Ribbono Shel Olam feert a velt.
Mice in the food is one of the dark sides of chicken ownership that no one talks about.
Well, not actually no one. There was this one time that we were on vacation in the Catskills with my wife’s extended family—grandparents, teenagers, toddlers, etc.—and I was in charge of finding activities that basically every age of person would be able to do together, except for one brother-in-law who doesn’t like anything.
So I planned a day wherein in the morning we would go on a cave tour, and in the afternoon we would visit this “family farm”—one of those farms that advertises milking goats and collecting eggs and all these things that they are not going to wait around until 1:00 p.m. for your group to show up and do for them, badly, because they have to get on with their day and the eggs and milk are their main parnassah. When they say “family farm,” it doesn’t mean your family, it means the farmer’s family.
But we did take the tour. It was not like a fun tour of a farm, which is what I’d pictured—this was a grim and gritty insight into reality. We did get to feed animals, but mostly, we and our kids got to hear about the plight of the American farmer who’s turning 70 and none of his kids want to take over the family farm, and he had to hire this one guy he doesn’t even like who didn’t really want to see us—he just wanted to feed the animals and go back inside—and he has to rent out whichever half of his farm he leaves fallow every year so that people can practice archery way too close to his animals, and everything is covered in sludge and keeps breaking and there’s this smell everywhere and you have to watch where you walk constantly, and where your toddlers walk constantly—it was the most depressing thing we had done in any of our vacations. And we had spent the morning in a cave.
And we said, “Yes, but you have all these nice cats everywhere!” because wherever we went, there were cats following us, and that’s mostly what the little kids were playing with when the farmer stopped walking to launch into his diatribe.
And he said, “I had to take on these cats to get rid of all the mice!”
I’m just saying that in case you’re ever listening to the song, “Old MacDonald had a farm,” and you get up to the part that said, “And on his farm he had a cat,” and you’re wondering, “What is he doing with a cat? What is its function on this farm?” The answer is that it’s there to catch the mice that are drawn by the food that we were there to feed his other animals.
But I’d really rather get rid of our mice if possible. Though I might need a week or so for the mouse traps to ship.
Hang on. It’s only free shipping if I buy 36 traps.
Mordechai Schmutter is a weekly humor columnist for Hamodia and is the author of seven books, published by Israel Book Shop. He also does freelance writing for hire. You can send questions, comments, or ideas to MSchmutter@gmail.com. Read more of Mordechai Schmutter’s articles at 5TJT.com.
