Eight Mice

Some months ago, I discovered that I had mice. When one was moseying across the kitchen floor, I was able to stamp on it and kill it. I had an exterminator in to rid me of the vermin.

No more signs of mice for a while, then they reappeared. So I called a different exterminator in. He has already been here twice and has killed eight mice—count them, eight! He located what may have been the hole near the house’s foundation through which the mice were getting into the house. He’s been here twice and will be back again next week.

My guess is that I’m much more subject to mice infestation than people living elsewhere because, for all practical purposes, I live in a forest. Columbia, Maryland, where I live, is a carefully planned community. Its areas with houses are situated among parkland regions with walkways, grass, and, especially, trees. It is an area that fosters wildlife. I regularly see all manner of animals—deer, foxes, wolves, and some animals I can’t identify. They wander leisurely around the pond to the north of my house and through the open field to the east. It is surely an ideal habitat for mice.

Looks like I finally solved the problem. I’ll find out over the coming year as the exterminator comes back to check things out.