Feeding the eagles on Hawk Ridge

The NickMoore Hotel has a basement full of mice drunk on chocolate kisses.

Here’s what happened:

I was keeping a glass bowl of Hershey’s Kisses on a shelf next to the fireplace. About a month ago, I noticed a dwindling supply. Maybe I was just consuming more chocolate, I thought. Then one day I discovered an empty bowl. Was I eating chocolate in my sleep?

No.

I couldn’t sleep.

I couldn’t sleep because Jen and I could hear mice knocking around in the living room. And I do mean knocking around. Each morning around 4 a.m. we were awakened to a series of knocking sounds. Two quick knocks. Then silence. Two quick knocks. Then silence.  What was going on down there?

Maybe you’ve figured it out by now: The mice had been climbing up into the candy bowl and were pushing the chocolate kisses over the edge. Drop a ketchup bottle cap on your hardwood floor. That’s the sound we heard in the middle of the night.

But where were the Kisses? There was no evidence of the missing chocolate anywhere on the floor. Not even an empty foil wrapper.

A few days ago, I discovered their cache.

The evidence. A pile of foil candy wrappers removed from their chimney hiding place.
The evidence. A pile of foil candy wrappers removed from their chimney hiding place.

I moved a clunky old fireplace liner away from the brick opening and looked inside. Empty foil wrappers were piled up on the chimney floor like beer cans in a frat house backyard.

This means WAR!

I purchased a black, tubular live trap that worked on a small teeter-totter method.  The trap was called “The Tomcat.” I loaded it with peanut butter and placed it near the chimney. The Tomcat caught a brown mouse right away. I released it in Superior. After a couple of false alarms, the Tomcat captured another, smaller mouse. Jen and I took that one to Hawk Ridge. A treat for the eagles.

But things have gotten uglier in the last few days. The mice have figured out how the Tomcat works. They get inside the black tube, steal a few peanut butter licks and scurry away. The teeter never tots. Then they march off into other areas of the house.

I woke up the other morning to screams in the kitchen.

So yesterday, things got serious. I purchased two lethal traps. The old-fashioned, spring-loaded kind strong enough to crush a hockey puck. “The Intruder”  mouse traps were deployed in the basement. They took no prisoners. I tossed two dead mice in the garbage can this morning.

I’m sure the battle isn’t over but there is no doubt now who will win.

No one steals my chocolate and gets away with it.

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