The summer of 1975, my sister and I embarked on a cross country trip. We had many adventures, met lots of interesting people, visited cousins we had never seen and made many memories. After several weeks of travel, we made it to Big Timber, Montana. We stayed with our grandmother for a few days and then headed up the Boulder to stay with cousin Babs.
She let us use their one room cabin that was up the road from the ranch. We parked our beat-up jalopy and waded the creek to our “new home.” There was no electricity. We did have running water right outside the door. We drank right from the creek. Our bathroom with a view was beside a tree. It was perfect!
We hung our kerosene lantern in the middle of the room, set up our Coleman stove, hauled in our cooler and threw our sleeping bags on the cots. We were there only a couple of nights when our sleep was interrupted by the gnawing teeth of mice – no, rats! The next morning, we went to the ranch and reported the night’s events to Babs. She laughed as I gave a detail description of the huge rats that infested our living quarters. She declared that there were no rats– only mice. Whatever it was, we didn’t like to share our little cabin. We took a maze trap back with us to capture the little beasts. We weren’t disappointed! The little critter visited right on time after we blew out the light. Those little fellows always sound larger and beastlier in the dark in the middle of the night. We heard clawing and pawing and gnawing as the little guy caught in the maze sought a way out. The cheese wasn’t worth it that night!
Imagine the scene in the middle of the night. Us girls slept in the bare essentials. When the mouse started its shenanigans, up we jumped. We lit the lantern that was hanging in the middle of the room from the ceiling. Sis grabbed a broom, jumped back up on her cot and started swinging at the poor little mouse in the maze trap. She did that with one hand while the other arm crossed her chest trying to hide her exposed self from unwanted eyes. I could do nothing but laugh. There were definitely no peeping toms out there! Only critters would look in that lone window by the creek. There was nothing else to do but wait until morning.
When dawn came, we got up and decided to dispose of the mouse properly. We’d drown it! We took the trap to the creek and submerged it in the icy cold water tumbling over the river rocks. That mouse didn’t drown! It floated to the top and started swimming. It got to the bank and crawled out of the water. Now what? It would come back that night if something wasn’t done! Sis grabbed a boot and started smacking the little gray-haired, long-tailed varmint. Finally, he gave up the ghost. We picked him up by the tail and sent him to his watery grave.
We went to the ranch for breakfast, and I recounted the animated tale to Babs. She laughed. No, she bellowed, hee-hawed, at our story. She had a hearty laugh and used every bit of it! We later went to town and got some real traps – those that snap their heads off.