Forget the calender, yesterday was the first day of Spring in my acre of Eastern Montana. It finally smelled like it. All the buds on trees and shrubs are about to pop. You can smell Sage again. The Women in town are happy, smiling, and when I last checked, talking excitedly about who saw the first Robin.
So, naturally, the mice want in. As I type I hear the rustling. A paper bag on the floor creaks a little, and I don't mind telling you, there's lot's of bags on this floor, as well as toys, rocks, boxes, books, and kids. The mice are in Walmart you see; there's enough food and cover in munk's house to last generations of mice, all at a good value for the price.
Go back, little mouse; didn't you see what happened to Joe? His tongue forced out of his mouth with the pressure of the steel bar against his neck? You can still smell him there, can't you, under the dishwasher, even though I threw him and the trap into the snow on the hill?
Go back.
I shot a few mice with a pellet gun when I lived in San Bernardino, Ca. Right inside the living room. It's a little harder than it looks, even though the mouse is close. Every time you miss you say 'ouch', as the pellet hits the wall. That little mark isn't going to show... it's bad, though, when there's 8 or 16 of them. It almost looks as though the mice did the damage, all those dents and upturned splinters.... Yeah, that's it; the mice did it.
There's almost always a khuk on my desk, right next to the computer and my hand as I write. In front of the machine there's a 5' by 3.5' window overlooking the little town in the woods of Montana. It's just about the Bridge of a Ship, I tell you. That's how I feel about it too. I can watch the Sun go down on another day and my life disapear into hyperspace on the net. This Bridge has everything on it except Bill's Heineken, and that's only because I don't drink. But it's got Pappy's Wooden Cross on top of the computer, two feet from my head, and the rocks Rusty sent me, the Desert Rose.
I think the Malla is about right for a mouse. It's long enough at 18" and quick enough. I don't think anyone's going to argue the enlarged cho makes it too weak for the job.
I'll never catch a mouse with one, probably. What would you do if you did? Would there be a traumatic incident, a death scream from the beast? You could answer that question: Do they really charge when cornered? And you'd need a rag, wouldn't you, afterwards? Best to let the Traps do their jobs. But the Malla is here, just in case. Mouse or Robber. And sometimes after sitting too long you grab the blade and run out to the wood pile, hammer a few, feel a little better. Chopping wood is a good thing. You can't change what has happened but you can chop wood.
God made wood piles for all kinds of reasons not about Winter heat.
I just heard him again. He's not going back, is he? Just like last year. Spring is here again.
munk
So, naturally, the mice want in. As I type I hear the rustling. A paper bag on the floor creaks a little, and I don't mind telling you, there's lot's of bags on this floor, as well as toys, rocks, boxes, books, and kids. The mice are in Walmart you see; there's enough food and cover in munk's house to last generations of mice, all at a good value for the price.
Go back, little mouse; didn't you see what happened to Joe? His tongue forced out of his mouth with the pressure of the steel bar against his neck? You can still smell him there, can't you, under the dishwasher, even though I threw him and the trap into the snow on the hill?
Go back.
I shot a few mice with a pellet gun when I lived in San Bernardino, Ca. Right inside the living room. It's a little harder than it looks, even though the mouse is close. Every time you miss you say 'ouch', as the pellet hits the wall. That little mark isn't going to show... it's bad, though, when there's 8 or 16 of them. It almost looks as though the mice did the damage, all those dents and upturned splinters.... Yeah, that's it; the mice did it.
There's almost always a khuk on my desk, right next to the computer and my hand as I write. In front of the machine there's a 5' by 3.5' window overlooking the little town in the woods of Montana. It's just about the Bridge of a Ship, I tell you. That's how I feel about it too. I can watch the Sun go down on another day and my life disapear into hyperspace on the net. This Bridge has everything on it except Bill's Heineken, and that's only because I don't drink. But it's got Pappy's Wooden Cross on top of the computer, two feet from my head, and the rocks Rusty sent me, the Desert Rose.
I think the Malla is about right for a mouse. It's long enough at 18" and quick enough. I don't think anyone's going to argue the enlarged cho makes it too weak for the job.
I'll never catch a mouse with one, probably. What would you do if you did? Would there be a traumatic incident, a death scream from the beast? You could answer that question: Do they really charge when cornered? And you'd need a rag, wouldn't you, afterwards? Best to let the Traps do their jobs. But the Malla is here, just in case. Mouse or Robber. And sometimes after sitting too long you grab the blade and run out to the wood pile, hammer a few, feel a little better. Chopping wood is a good thing. You can't change what has happened but you can chop wood.
God made wood piles for all kinds of reasons not about Winter heat.
I just heard him again. He's not going back, is he? Just like last year. Spring is here again.
munk
And actually if you just skewer the stupid thing, then you can triumphantly cart it out of the house in front of everyone and start a collection of sliced mice around the outer edge of the house....maybe the others would eventually get the hint... :barf: 
:footinmou and for that job I think this napolean sword I have here would be an excellent choice. Sharp and pointy and very quick. 
