One of the mousetraps had been sprung when we came down to the kitchen this morning. It kind of rattled as the Man put it out on the front porch while we had breakfast and got the kids ready for school.
Once everyone else had left (kids on the bus, the Man collected by the Exile) I prepared to release our rodent friend into the wild. I didn't want it to find its way back to the house, so I popped the trap in the back of the car and drove about a mile to a field by the side of the road.
The trap operates by way of a see-saw arrangement. The mouse heads up towards the bait, activating the see-saw which causes the door to snap shut behind it. I could hear the see-saw rattling, but there didn't seem to be any scratching sounds. Whatever was in there was being as quiet as... proverb suggests it should be. Or perhaps the trap wasn't so humane, and the mouse had copped it? I opened the door gingerly, ready to shake out a little mousey corpse, but instead found...
...nothing! Darn it! I felt like a proper Charlie.
I've set the traps again, ready for tonight. Was I just imagining that squeaky snigger from under the cooker?
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