The mice are either demoralized, disoriented, or dead. This morning found all the traps unsprung. Nary a mouse turd was to be seen.
In the early dawn, while carrying my cat (he's 20, this is what you have to do with a 20-year-old cat sometimes) through the kitchen to the laundry room to use his litter box, I surprised a mouse on the counter. They, like my friends, don't expect to see me upright before 10am.
He scampered and hid, before skittering behind the stove through its ventilation system. Now I know how they access the counter, and will block off that route (probably with steel wool or a metal grate), thus establishing yet another oasis of mouse-impenetrability, together with our kitchen island.
I'm considering switching up the bait to either chocolate or pretzels (which would be tied down to the trigger mechanism), in order to catch the smarter mice who might at this point be understandably wary of cheese, having seen their relatives' brains splattered next to a Vermont cheddar.
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