Monday, August 5, 2013


Patty does NOT like mice.  She does not even like the CONCEPT  of mice scurrying around Appalachian Trail shelters.  She doesn’t like sharing her Amish bread with them and she certainly does not like tidying up behind their little parties. Al was less adamant, seeing them, in his Zen-like way, as essential, if unlovely parts of Nature’s  great plan (kinda like Buzzards and Tobacco chewers.)   That was  BEFORE an army of rampaging field mice laid waste to a tray of hand picked Donut Peaches just reaching their peak of ripeness. 

It happened in one night at the Quirky campground mentioned above. The devastation was total and their army secured sanctuary in every niche.  We deployed chemical weapons, and, lacking power to utilize our electronic mouse prevention devices, denied all food and liquid.  Slowly the evidence of their presence diminished and when we embarked on 200 miles of rough New York back roads, we imagined their little bloody concussed  corpses abandoning the trailer at highway speeds.  We can fervently hope.
Several days have passed and so, we hope, the dreadful incursion.  Mouse sign has diminished to a vanishing point and a doubly thorough cleansing of the home  place has been accomplished. 

Just 12 more months until Donut Peaches are back…

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