death of the supervole
We've always had vole problems in this house.... one of my earlier posts talked about the "dark time" when the voles fought back and tried to poison my children as revenge for being hunted down and mercilessly killed. After that incident we went on a vole annihilation spree and it's been relatively quiet. But all good things come to an end.
Last week I opened a cupboard to find vole poop. Proof that we were being invaded and that they were around our canned goods. I cleaned and bleached the entire area, cans included, and put out a trap. Within a couple of hours.... *SNAP* One vole dead and soon disposed of.
I thought we might be lucky and that was the end of it, but alas, no. The next day there was new vole poop in the cupboard, and the trap was reset. Here's where things got interesting... shortly after setting the trap, I heard the distinctive snap as it released. I leaped joyfully up and ran to inspect my latest catch. But where a vole carcass should have been, there was only a small crumb of cheddar cheese, the rest had been taken and the culprit roamed free.
I reset the trap, this time using peanut butter. My rationale is that peanut butter takes longer to devour and increases the chances of a kill. With cheese, the vermin can snag and run. Peanut butter's stickiness prevents that. As of bedtime, the trap was still armed and dangerous, but when I checked it in the morning it had not only been sprung and raided, it had been dragged or pushed all the way to the back of the cupboard. This vole was good. Real good.
This pattern of bait and escape continued for several days. The super vole raided my traps and left poop in return. I was started to get frustrated by being outsmarted by this thing. What kind of vole could spring trap after trap without being caught? I started to hear him taunting me from his hidden hideway and knew that this must end. But how?
So this morning I'm in the shower when I hear my 15 year old girl shriek loudly and run into the bathroom. Her voice is two octaves higher than usual, as she tells me she reached into the cupboard to grab her mac & cheese, decided to check the trap and, upon looking down, sees a big, fat vole sitting on top of the peanut butter tub chewing on the lid. The vole didn't move as she reached in and removed her box, nor did it move when she screamed loudly at it. I explained to her that I was unable to check out the situation because I was naked and soapy, so she should just close the cupboard. When she went back, the vole was still sitting there, completely nonplussed by her presence. Back she came into the bathroom, and once again, I sent her to scare it away.
This time, she decided to try and shoo it away using another method. She got a large, clear pyrex bowl and placed it atop the peanut butter and the supervole. As she watched, the vole under the glass began to move (finally) and she (to use her words) "totally freaked out and pressed down."
The supervole was no more. It's days of taunting me and defeating my trapping efforts ended with it being smashed between a bowl and a peanut butter tub.
So I got out of the shower and disposed of the carcass. I also washed my bowl using bleach and very hot water. I cleaned out the cupboard, once again, and am now on full alert to see if any of the offending rodents remain. So far, nothing, which is good.
So even though my problem has been solved and my tormenting critter killed, he still haunts me. What kind of vole is so bold, so cocky that it's not scared of humans? What is it about the race of super voles that makes them think they can take over my house? Is this fearless rodent descended of the voles that tried to kill my children by placing rat poison inside their pillow cases? Was it mentally deficient and unable to realize the danger personified by my daughter the vole squisher? And, probably the most looming question of all - will my home ever be free of these insidious interlopers?
Visitors to Alaska talk about the risk of being eaten by bears, falling off a glacier, or drowing in class IV whitewater. Residents watch out for evils like big government, PETA activists, and tourists in class A motorhomes. Little do these people realize that while we run through our daily routines, a new threat looms in the crevasses and cracks of our foundations..... trust me folks, beware the vole.
Last week I opened a cupboard to find vole poop. Proof that we were being invaded and that they were around our canned goods. I cleaned and bleached the entire area, cans included, and put out a trap. Within a couple of hours.... *SNAP* One vole dead and soon disposed of.
I thought we might be lucky and that was the end of it, but alas, no. The next day there was new vole poop in the cupboard, and the trap was reset. Here's where things got interesting... shortly after setting the trap, I heard the distinctive snap as it released. I leaped joyfully up and ran to inspect my latest catch. But where a vole carcass should have been, there was only a small crumb of cheddar cheese, the rest had been taken and the culprit roamed free.
I reset the trap, this time using peanut butter. My rationale is that peanut butter takes longer to devour and increases the chances of a kill. With cheese, the vermin can snag and run. Peanut butter's stickiness prevents that. As of bedtime, the trap was still armed and dangerous, but when I checked it in the morning it had not only been sprung and raided, it had been dragged or pushed all the way to the back of the cupboard. This vole was good. Real good.
This pattern of bait and escape continued for several days. The super vole raided my traps and left poop in return. I was started to get frustrated by being outsmarted by this thing. What kind of vole could spring trap after trap without being caught? I started to hear him taunting me from his hidden hideway and knew that this must end. But how?
So this morning I'm in the shower when I hear my 15 year old girl shriek loudly and run into the bathroom. Her voice is two octaves higher than usual, as she tells me she reached into the cupboard to grab her mac & cheese, decided to check the trap and, upon looking down, sees a big, fat vole sitting on top of the peanut butter tub chewing on the lid. The vole didn't move as she reached in and removed her box, nor did it move when she screamed loudly at it. I explained to her that I was unable to check out the situation because I was naked and soapy, so she should just close the cupboard. When she went back, the vole was still sitting there, completely nonplussed by her presence. Back she came into the bathroom, and once again, I sent her to scare it away.
This time, she decided to try and shoo it away using another method. She got a large, clear pyrex bowl and placed it atop the peanut butter and the supervole. As she watched, the vole under the glass began to move (finally) and she (to use her words) "totally freaked out and pressed down."
The supervole was no more. It's days of taunting me and defeating my trapping efforts ended with it being smashed between a bowl and a peanut butter tub.
So I got out of the shower and disposed of the carcass. I also washed my bowl using bleach and very hot water. I cleaned out the cupboard, once again, and am now on full alert to see if any of the offending rodents remain. So far, nothing, which is good.
So even though my problem has been solved and my tormenting critter killed, he still haunts me. What kind of vole is so bold, so cocky that it's not scared of humans? What is it about the race of super voles that makes them think they can take over my house? Is this fearless rodent descended of the voles that tried to kill my children by placing rat poison inside their pillow cases? Was it mentally deficient and unable to realize the danger personified by my daughter the vole squisher? And, probably the most looming question of all - will my home ever be free of these insidious interlopers?
Visitors to Alaska talk about the risk of being eaten by bears, falling off a glacier, or drowing in class IV whitewater. Residents watch out for evils like big government, PETA activists, and tourists in class A motorhomes. Little do these people realize that while we run through our daily routines, a new threat looms in the crevasses and cracks of our foundations..... trust me folks, beware the vole.
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