As you know, I’ve been looking forward to evicting my plague of mice this weekend. I might not be able to keep them out of the barn or the coop, but I can dismantle their home. Which they eat. (There’s a Hansel and Gretel joke in there somewhere, but I lack the wherewithal to find it this morning…)
I have to say, though, I have not been looking forward to actual moment of sticking the shovel in there for the first time. I have persistent nightmares of the mice scurrying out in terror. Yeesh.
But, God had other plans. Or, She’s testing my resolve.
Either way, it ain’t happening, because it’s too dang COLD. We had a cold snap yesterday. Instead of our (relatively) civilised 30-40 degree days and our 20-something degree nights, it plummeted down to zero last night. At writing, it’s a tropical 7.
And I ain’t shoveling chicken shit in single digit weather, Paw; I ain’t.
So, the squatters have a short reprieve, and now The Man is calling my plans into question. He spoke up this morning to tell me that he felt mice are a fact of life around livestock, and I should stand down red alert. Laissez-faire, if you will.
It’s my call, of course, but he also mentioned that one of the reasons the coop only got down to 14 degrees last night, when it was zero outside, is the heat generated from the poop in the pit. Gross, but true.
So,…what do you think? I’d love to hear from the chicken people, who are, doubtless, much more experienced than me. Is this a fight that needs to be fought, or should I go for damage control?