Other and sadder mouse news. We've been getting the live traps out to catch the mother deermouse, and what we suppose are children. ![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bunny_hugger has already caught what seems to be the mother and one child, moved outside to the detached garage where they're welcome to hang out.
In getting out the live traps, though, we went to the basement to find one of the tin cats that we had loaned to a friend whose house was, a year or so back, overrun with mice. It was closed, and what we most feared had happened. A mouse had gotten in and, with no food, water, or way to escape, died. This is why we try to leave them open, ideally with some prop inside that makes it impossible to close. We don't know how we failed to notice it was put away unsafe. It's possible our friend gave it back to us closed and unaware a mouse was trapped inside, but that doesn't relieve us of responsibility to open it and make sure it's safe.
You can imagine how we feel, which isn't a patch on how the mouse must have. We buried it near our pet mice, as much kindness as we can offer at this point.
On merrier news, let's get back to Idlewild and fairy tales.
Red Riding Hood pondering whether she dares go into Grandmom's house, which is inducing a delay that's probably just making things worse.
Well, there's the wolf dressed up as Grandmom and in her bed so I suppose things can't get worse than this.
Some more scenes set up but the centerpiece here is an American Elm tree, like you never see anymore. Trust me, that's what the sign on it says.
Here's the Seven Dwarves, of Snow White fame.
And their house. Yes, there's seven little chimneys coming out the top.
And here's Jack B, the nimble one jumping over a candlestick. He doesn't seem to be unscathed quite.
Here's a clock that has both a mouse running up and down it but also one that pokes its head out as the hands rotate.
You can see the other mouse at the base of the pendulum and also see they made their own choice about spelling 'Hickory Dickory Dock'.
Here's a pretty solid Humpty Dumpty. The wall looks like it's ancient, although that probably actually means they rebuilt it from scratch in May.
Here's Old King Cole, with pipe and bowl.
And here's a talking tree; there's a speaker in the mouth there and it reels off, if I remember right, a bunch of tree puns.
The giant keyhole I think is tied to Alice In Wonderland/Through The Looking-Glass.
Trivia: It's estimated that in 1849 Americans ate about 139 pounds of pork per capita. By 1889 this had dropped to 119 pounds. Source: Down To Earth: Nature's Role in American History, Ted Steinberg.
Currently Reading: Michigan History, September/October 2025, Editor Kristen Brennan.
