When one leaves for the summer via bush plane one doesn't always get everything tidied up before departure. When the plane comes, the plane comes and it won't wait. This means I had a little picking up to do when I arrived here. One of the first things I do when attempting housework is fold blankets and fluff pillows. It makes an immediate impression of less clutter with minimal effort. I had left my favorite fuzzy flowered blanket draped over my red chair. When I swept it up to fold, white beans went flying to the floor. Beans? Yes. Beans. This didn't bode well. Of course I knew who put them there, I was just hoping I was wrong. You see, last year I had roommates. I'm not sure what they are, or in this case, were, but they didn't look like the mice I've met in Wisconsin or Oregon. These are bigger and have shorter tales. I've been calling them voles, but my students tell me they are "Alaska mice." Everything is, indeed, big here. One of the stories you missed with me being too busy to write last year was the battle for supremacy between me and the voles. I eventually won, but I had to empty about 20 mousetraps to claim victory.
I'm sure you can imagine my delight when the beans went flying. I picked them up and pretended it didn't happen. I purposely did not look in my food stores to assess damage. Instead, I plugged in my radio. Digging around for the outlet I found this frying pan (sorry so dark):
I have to confess I actually smiled when I saw this little stash. Nice and neat. I don't allow myself to think sweet because it just doesn't work to cohabit with voles. Respect for your enemy is one thing, thinking they are sweet is quite another.
Come Monday morning I heard the scratching. I peaked around the corner and saw a towel moving in the breeze of the fan. The catch here, as I'm sure you have guessed, is that the fan was not on. I watched for awhile and finally saw the invader poke its head out, crawl down the towel, crawl up the towel, crawl down the towel, and scamper behind the living room couch. yipee. I commenced setting the first trap. I have given up peanuts (another story there) so this year the trap is set with cashew butter. Behind the dryer it goes. I built a little barricade sealing off my back cunnychuck door and waited. Not even an hour later I heard the trap snap. The total bummer here is that I then heard the vole flopping around behind my dryer. I'm thinking - hey! Maybe I don't have to murder the little critter, but alas, it flopped too far behind the washing machine to reach with my broom so I put on an audible book, volume up, and ignored it.
Pretty soon the marines showed up in the form of Herman the maintenance man. He helped me move the dryer so we could reach behind the washer. Sadly, but probably for the best, Herman beat the little vole to death with the broom handle. What a team! I emptied the trap out my front door. Herman does not approve of flushing the rodents, and I don't have a disposal like my dad did.
This is not the end of the story!
My friend Kim is coming to visit so I decided to wash the bedding. I pulled the quilt off my guest bed and click, click, click... I hear the sound of falling beans. The first photo is the guest bed. The second is the kitchen.
Keep your fingers crossed for me...