Pocket Mouse

Scrabbling sounds in the ceiling the last few nights have got me worried that our friends the packrats have become too friendly; they’re fine in the yard, where the elegance of their pelage combines with a pronounced intelligence of face to make them welcome guests indeed, but in the house? No thanks.

So, having a heart, I set the have-a-heart trap, and was sorry to find this morning that I’d caught not a woodrat but a large, soft gray, fuzzy mouse with a long, crested tail: Perognathus, I am fairly certain, one of the pocket mice. Cute little beast, and I can’t believe he alone could be responsible for all that poltergeisting, so I tipped him out and wished him well (well away from the house, that is). Have to see what happens next.