It occurs to me that hunting and trapping have changed over the years for most of us, and so for fun today I wanted to share an adaption of a poem that my father wrote during his college days in the 1930′s:
“In days of old when knights so bold rode off on prancing steeds, ‘Twas easy then fair maid to win with bold and showy deeds. 
But now alas, a modern lass to win for his loving spouse, Man walks her dog, shoots dread hedgehog, or brags, ‘I killed a mouse!’ “ (adapted from “The Modern Knight” by Louis R. Ward, copyright 2012)
Speaking of killing a mouse, Alan has pretty much perfected mouse trappery with a 4-trap better mouse trap. We’ve lost track of how many mice have lost their lives trying to invade our garage this winter. Alan made a super trap by grouping several mouse traps with the peanut butter only accessible for those intrepid mice who tried to tread over the top. If you’ve got a problem with invasions from the tiny dark side, try it! I think you’ll like it. 
“Likewise, husbands, dwell with them according to knowledge, giving honor unto the wife, as unto the weaker vessel, and as being heirs together of the grace of life” (1 Peter 3:7) Trapping pests is one area where I’m delighted to praise my husband for being valiant, since killing anything is totally traumatic for me. Thanks, men, for taking care of us!
*Pictures of our fearless knights are of Rex, my dear friend Cindi’s husband, who took out a very destructive hedge hog, and Alan, who’s keeping our home rodent-free since we had to give away our cats last summer.
Just love that poem from your father. I think I would appreciate a man who caught mice for me more than a trapper who brought me home a rabbit! But then I do like cats, so perhaps I just like the similarity between them.
Fun!
I am surprised at how squeamish I am around anything that’s suffering and dying. I’ve never felt that way about a loved one, but I really don’t want to be near anything like a mouse trap. Guess my instinct is to try to rescue the mouse and I feel a bit guilty that it had to die…like…couldn’t I just share a little food with it? At any rate, I am glad that Alan keeps the mice OUT of our garage.
Fun to remember Grandpa’s poem!