Rodent revenge

Mice are a fact of life on a farm. Kind of like death and taxes. Field mice love barns for the constant source of grain and shelter. And when winter comes, it’s time to move into the big house where it’s toasty warm.

A few months ago, fed up with the squeaking and scratching in the walls, we hired a cracker-jack mouse killer. (See execution day.) Just one visit and it was Mission accomplished.

Unfortunately, the mice have had the last laugh.

The attic stinks to high-heaven of dead, rotting rodents trapped in the walls.

And this comes just after we’ve gotten rid of the stink that permeated the kitchen from Drippy’s butt — god rest his feline soul. (see drippy passes) Now, I’m haunted by the stench of decaying mice in the attic. (Hmm, don’t think I’m a worthy PR rep for rural living… “Say goodbye to the concrete jungle for a more gentile setting, the rolling hills and vistas, the woods and wildlife, and the aroma of cat poop and rotting mice…”).

I’ve been avoiding the attic for a while. Instead of storing stuff in its proper place, I’ve been hurling said-object into the attic stairwell and slamming the door. But yesterday in search of wrapping paper, I had to scale a mountain of luggage, shoes, outgrown baby clothes, an empty computer box, vacuum cleaner, backpack, box of christmas ornaments, box fan and a tower of paperback books. I realized it was time to face the stink.

No great words of wisdom on the Google under the search “smell of dead mice.” Use vinegar to absorb the odor. Charcoal briquets. Baking soda. Coffee grounds. But most admitted that these things helped but didn’t eliminate the smell.

So, armed with baking soda, vinegar and 3 plug-in air fresheners, I burst into the attic and threw open the windows.

And today I noticed a change. No longer do I detect the air of decay.

Now when I go up stairs, I’m greeted by the aroma of Glade Spring Scent, vinegar, and rotting rodents….