From the Annals
A bit of family history, from 2006
One evening I went into the tool shed to get corn for the chickens. I had the Baby on my right hip and Son trailing behind. When I opened the corn bin, there, huddled roundly at the bottom, were two deer mice, Mama and baby. They were glossy and well fed and did not look the least bit guilty. Son started jumping up and down saying, "Can I touch one? Can I touch one?" I got a bucket, set Baby down on the floor reluctantly, and started trying to scoop up two athletic and highly motivated mice.
The mice were leaping everywhere but the bucket, Son was trying to help, and Baby was looking around the floor for something she shouldn't stick in her mouth (so that she could stick it in her mouth). I was cool and calm.
Finally I got both mice in the bucket, to be humanely released, and Baby securely back on my hip. Son was still jumping up and down beside me. "CanItouchoneCanItouchone?" As I rounded the corner of the woodshed I beheld the stupid dog with a hen pinned to the ground, "playing" with her.
HAAAAAA! I screamed in my best marine sergeant tones.
Mama mouse made a leap that would have had Jackie Joyner Kersey weeping with pride and landed on my left shoulder, quivering. The dog unrepentantly let go of the chicken, who leaping up clucking and squawking almost enough to drown out Son saying, "Mommy, you scared me! CanItouchitCanItouchit . . . "
I'm telling you, I was really, really cool and calm.
In the end, the chicken was ruffled but unhurt, and Baby and Son got to look closely at (but not touch) the bemused mice, who were successfully released far away from the corn bin.
(Note; this is why I started going gray early, I think)
(This is a photo of a different corn thief, but a mouse is a mouse)