I had six packs of Ramen noodles in a kitchen drawer. I went to get one, only to find that all six were empty, with little holes eaten away to tell me that a mouse had gotten to them. When winter came, and dumped 2 feet of snow on us, I got out my old firefighter boots to go out and shovel. I stepped into one, felt something strange, and found that it was 6 packs worth of Ramen noodles, stored in my boots.

I then bought some poison - little blue pellets of something that, in a perfect world, the mice eat, then get really thirsty and leave the house looking for a source of water, and dehydrate outside of your house. The poison dissappeared, but not the mice. The following summer I was packing to move and was checking my winter coat pockets for any spare change that I might have left in them, only to find the poison pellets. They were also stored in a badger-fur hat hanging on a coat rack.

My new house came with a cat, who killed mice for a while, but now is too lazy. SHe just plays with them. I don't let her in my bedroom, as I'm slightly allergic to her. The mice discovered this, and moved into my bedroom. One winter I caught eleven of them. The 12th one got in my laundry bag and was later washed to death. One night one of them ran over my face while I was half asleep.

Last night I was getting ready to go play a gig, and as I was putting on my cowboy boots, I heard a rattle in one. I looked inside and found Purina Cat Chow. The mouse is actually taking it from my cat's dish and carrying it upstairs to the opposite end of the house and storing it in my boots. There have to be places in between the kitchen and my bedroom to store that stuff. Clearly, the mice are spiting me.

What I'm getting at here is: the heck with humane methods. Kill them. They clearly are intelligent beings and nothing short of death is going to stop them from tormenting you.

Steve