Day 144: Monday, March 1, 2010: Your place setting has a shovel instead of a spoon.

The Mouse Chronicles: continued . . .

This morning dawned on a new era of mouse trapping; a tiny little baby waiting for me in the Havahart.

My wife took our daughter out to the pet store shopping for a mouse house, while I went off to shoot at the Sportman’s club, and we both met back here in time for the phenomenal U.S vs. Canada Olympic hockey game.

When I entered the basement, the baby mouse was still in the trap.

So I came upstairs to find a big new mouse house on my daughter’s bureau, with two cute little silver mice, Silver Stream and Melody Snow.  There’s also a very ecstatic little girl.

So I had to take the little baby mouse down the road and out to the deep woods, where it scampered off to a brave new world.

Poor little thing.

A couple hours later, there’s another one in the trap.

So it was down the road and out to the woods again, and I should probably check the trap before I go to bed, but this is a whole new level of tree hugging, bordering on PETA mania.  And me at a club hours ago, with more stuffed animals staring into space than an all-you-can-eat at the Home Town Buffet.

“Just throw some damn DeCon down and call it a day,” Doc told me, but he never had kids and just got a trapping license, so there you go.  It’s like the difference betwen U.S. football and Canadian hockey.  Two different schools of thought and skill levels. 

At least the hockey team . . . almost . . . won.  Almost.  Did we scare them a little?  I wonder who will drink more beer by the end of the night; winners or losers?