Mousetraps in my Car

In Texas, roaches and fire ants were regular residents in my car. In Montana, it's mice. Lots of mice. Baby mice in nests cleverly fashioned out of the car title papers that once resided neatly in a folder in my glove box. Teenage mice busy vandalizing my cell phone antenna cord. Adult mice storing sunflower seeds and cracked corn under the seats, leaving a trail of mouse droppings on the leather seats, the console, and the floor mats. Taking over the interior of my car isn't enough, either. When I took my car in to have the oil changed, some mice lost a nice little nest they'd constructed in the air filter. I tried those sticky tray-type traps, only to be greeted the next day by crazed, 2-legged mice, tray and all, busy eating through the carpeting in the car in a futile attempt to escape. The rest of the sticky traps were nowhere in sight, at least not until I searched with a flashlight. Between the 3rd seat and side of the car--one firmly-stuck tray, sporting two little bloody and chewed legs. I discovered another tray (also sporting two little bloody legs) stuck in the carpeted wheel well where the spare tire resides. The third and last tray had a still-alive, still-breathing, still-kicking mouse embedded, on his back, in the center of the sticky mouse-glue. I grabbed the mail, which I'd just picked up, to use as a flipper to get that tray out of the car, but succeeded only in firmly attaching several envelopes and my PC World magazine to the tray. A sudden flash of intelligence just before I reached out for the tray to pull it away from the mail saved at least two fingers from joining the mail and the mouse. I'm now using ivory-colored "one-hand-release" traps in an attempt to get ahead of the breeding game in my car. Five traps, cleverly placed so they are as attractive as possible, are permanent fixtures in my vehicle. Every evening, I bait all five traps. Every morning, I empty 5 dead mice from the five traps. During the day while I'm at work, I occasionally discover a mouse or two caught in an unbaited trap. Friends step carefully when they enter my car. My grandchildren remind one another that "Honey has mouse traps under the seat . . . Lift your feet!" The Sirius radio technician won't be reaching under the seat to retrieve a dropped antenna wire again. And I--well, I most definitely won't forget again to check the traps over a long, hot weekend. And that, friend, is culture shock experience #1 for me in Montana.