Our scritchy, scratchy guests

The one Catskill denizen no one likes

By Zoey McGee | Manor Ink

I’ve noticed a recurring pattern throughout my two years of writing the Catskill Critter column (a regular feature over the last few years in the paper): some animals simply rub me the wrong way.

Thanks to our Constitutional guarantee of free speech, I’ve never hesitated to make my opinions clear. Today, I’m shining a spotlight on my newest nemesis, the critters that, during these dreary winter months, have declared an unspoken war on my household. They’ve infiltrated my home, raided my pantry, left an abundance of droppings for my cleaning “pleasure” and awakened me countless times with their midnight scampers. As you’ve probably guessed, I’m talking about mice.

When I was younger, I always sided with sweet, innocent Jerry the Mouse in his endless feud with Tom the Cat. But now, as I am faced with a full-blown rodent crisis, I understand exactly where the cat was coming from in dispensing his violence. Mice should simply not exist.

This struck me the other day when, in my kitchen, a particularly bold rodent sat on the counter beside me, smugly nibbling crumbs from a plate. It stared me down with its beady little eyes, entirely unfazed by my attempts to scare it away. I stomped. It didn’t flinch. I waved my arms. It kept eating.

That mouse tested every shred of my animal-loving heart, and left me spiraling down a rabbit hole – or rodent hole – asking, What is the point of mice? Do they bring any benefit to the world?

The answer, I concluded, is no. According to my favorite Internet search engine, however, mice do serve a few purposes. They are snacks for owls, hawks and snakes, and contribute to science as MVP test-subjects for medical research.

But there are loopholes. Predators could quickly adapt to eating other small critters. And scientists could run their experiments on voles or some other wee beastie, or invent fancy rodent-free research methods. The truth is, mice bring no unique benefit to this planet that another creature couldn’t replace. Every ecosystem could adapt if mice simply vanished.

All they contribute is chaos. They gnaw through everything, from food to wires, and have zero respect for boundaries. Worst of all, they bring their friends, turning your home into an unpaid rodent vacation rental. Actually, they don’t even pay rent; they’re squatters. Period.

So, for mice everywhere, specifically, those in my house, consider this column your eviction notice.