Our Winter Game: The Mouse, The House
Field mice like loose houses. Every autumn, they squeeze through the gaps in the plank walls of our farmhouse, which was probably built before the Civil War. Inside, the mice find shelter in the ancient crawl space attic and also between the lath-and-plaster ceilings and the (relatively) newer dropped, tiled ceilings. It’s a pretty good life for the mice, good enough to entice them to breed more mice. I do my best to see that each mouse’s good life ends with one bad day. So far this season, 14 of them have had those bad days. It might be perverse to keep track of the number ...