Well, the rollicking summer festival sponsored by Order Rodentia remains in full swing in the Bike Garden. First it was the squirrels hosting their own months-long version of unchecked revelry, and now it's this:
Yes, that's right. Cleverly masquerading as a mess of decomposing leaves in my compost pile is a cocktail party-- a veritable bacchanalian scrum!--of Mus musculus domesticus, aka the ubiquitous house mouse.
You know, I employ a couple of cats to take care of this very problem, and where are they? Oh, that's right, taking a break from doing any real work.
Here's the ghostly Bill, "supervising" the building of the arroyo:
Here he is testing the depth of the hole:
And here is Koho, my not-so-ghostly 23 pound cat (yes, you read that number correctly*), doing what he usually does, which is to say lying around on top of the couch thinking about how long it will be until his next meal:
In truth, they both have pretty good street cred as mousers, which is why I cannot for the life of me figure out how they've let my compost bin become Mouse Condo Central. This will not do. We need to have a little chat about this matter. They get workman's comp, employer-paid health care, paid vacation, and a pension plan, I think it is only fair that I get a mouse-free compost bin in return. It is not too much to ask.
* He has big bones. Seriously big. Stinkin' mule big, only with better hair.