The Mouse in the Trap who Refused to Die with a Life Lesson for Us

I met my new neighbor last fall, Martha, a middle-aged woman, kindly, soft spoken, always wearing an apron of some kind. She had moved in as a live-in companion for our next door neighbor, a friendly bachelor called Jack who lived down the road.

Obviously the relationship of convenience was to share work responsibilities on the farm; her cleaning and cooking and his gardening and property maintenance; and, perhaps timely genuine affection. Jack had a black and white cat called Big Bart of appropriate size which Martha spoiled with home cooked treats.

This is her story as she described it one cold day this winter as we sat around with a cup of spiced Russian chai and cheese tarts. I have tried to retell it with Martha's own words whenever possible.

"Our old farm home has a central kitchen with a pantry loaded with shelves and drawers attached at the back. It was not unusual in early fall for the mice to come calling making a short trip from the barn with grain bags to a warmer space. So a standard practice was to set a few mousetraps with cheese wherever their droppings were seen commonly by the water heater or pantry drawers where a piece of cereal or pet food would satisfy a quick nibble.

But understand there was no doubt in my mind that it was sad to catch mice by alluring them with food where a trap’s sudden snap usually caught them at the throat for a quick death.

Dear Jack, in his steady and sure way only said that we call them rodents for a reason. He likes to talk facts how a mouse can squeeze into such small spaces even a one quarter inch hole ... how their sharp teeth can easily gnaw through paper and plastic food packaging. Did you know, he said, an average mouse can reproduce a litter of 5 babies 10 times a year.

Of course it was simple enough to agree that they can’t be in the house when they have a barn full of hay. If some unfortunate wanderer gets caught it is just added to Big Bart’s diet enjoyed with relish minus paws and tail as was witnessed a few times.

And for awhile, the process went along fine; that is, until one morning there was the familiar sharp click but followed by a rattling sound in one of the pantry drawers.

She knew a mouse had been caught but this one was still moving.

Jack told her to get a stick and beat it if you have to kill it.

She ignored him thinking he will die in time because who survives a trap, right?

Strangely, the rattling continued but Martha didn’t bother opening the drawer just repeating to herself that it will probably die soon enough.

But to her great surprise he didn’t die. The next day the rattling continued intermittently, with the thought he is trapped but not by his head and suffering.

So Jack had the idea to kill him with a stick, but this proved awkward inside the drawer because he kept running from corner to corner. "But I think I hit him a couple times … he must be dead now," he said.

But could you believe it! Back in the kitchen there was the rattling sound again still dragging the trap around trying to escape.

Poor Jack, by now he was clearly fed up, “Well, for dam’s sake get him into a bag and throw him out trap and all. Why are you so afraid of a small mouse?”

So Martha got a bag, finally opening the drawer to see the captive for the first time. This is how she described the small rather plump mouse with bright black eyes and fine whiskers. He had a smear of blood at his right shoulder and mangled leg by the steel wire that had snapped shut there. 'She said, "We just stared at each other. There was no danger here just pity for a suffering animal that had struggled 2 days to be free while I fretted irrationally, preferring a quick self-imposed death."

It was so simple to place him in the bag to take out to the back porch to shake loose on the deck with Big Bart following her.

She remembered her feelings that enough was enough. We both agreed that if anyone deserved to live this little mouse has earned the right for a second chance.

She explained how she held the trap up dangling him in mid air lifting the wire that had smashed him prisoner days ago. He fell to the floor and in an instant scampered off to hide behind a planter, so quickly in fact, that Big Bart who chased but couldn’t catch him.

She smiled sadly, shrugging her soft shoulders, noting that his chance of survival with such trauma was an uncertain future, but for a brief moment there was empathy that he had thee right to live again on his terms with a crippled leg.

What is the people lesson?

It can be said that people may feel they are caught in situations where freedoms are circumscribed corner to corner.

People may feel ensnared by proverbial traps that can be notoriously baited with different things that they would really like to have, sometimes food, sometimes other desirous things like money, fame, sex or material things. Sometimes there is no need for bait as people strive to achieve their own self-centered goals.

Some traps may be imposed by companies to keep dutiful employment or regulators to follow laws. However, mindset perseveres to survive because the unknown is less protective. Rattling away conspicuously provides existence even with pain suffered. Even when our freedom to run away is closed, there are usually manageable strategies. But it also means that we should never give up striving for a worthy hope like freedom someday.

But, on the other hand, take another look at the mouse's choice to leave the barn filled with food and no need for traps. It was basic enough with recesses to hide in and warm nests to nestle into and raise baby mice. Perhaps the menu was chewy old straw and seeds mixed with oats and barley from the feed bags but they were sufficient enough. There was no cheese or cookie crumbs perhaps some might consider a higher status in some places. Perhaps it's best to stay with poorer circumstances and a friendlier tribe to meet life's expectations with some comfort without fear.

Annemarie Berukoff

To read more of Robbie Burn’s poem

I’m truly sorry Man’s dominion

Has broken Nature’s social union,

An’ justifies that ill opinion,

Which makes thee startle,

At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,

An’ fellow-mortal!