White Dog put Zsofia in charge of the training presentation but very quickly Zso was reminded that she is a child of privilege. "Really, sister, I had to do this to survive," Roman told her.
Opal was less blunt. "I know you are the household champ," Opal told her, "you and Sachi did a splendid job in the past. You should truly be proud. But I had to kill them to keep them from eating the very little food we got...and had to share amongst ourselves. You know the hunt was serious."
Bailey nudged Zso and led her outside. "Come on, we can go looking for them in the tall grass. Slap the paw down on them and voila! a snack" "No!" I responded. "NO SNACK... some people poison mice and it stays in their body before they die. No snacks!!!"
This morning Steve saw the early arrival of the bane of colder weather here at White Dog Ranch...a mouse. "He was pretty tiny," Steve reported. "Oh great, that means there is a litter somewhere probably still outside...for now." I replied.
Last year we carefully stuffed steel wool and screening into and over any hole or chink bigger than a dime and put out peanut-butter baited traps at the very first signs. The strategy worked and we remained relatively rodent-free all winter.
This year we are going to repeat what we did with the addition of fox urine "markings" on the places at the house entries that the WDA cannot get to in order to mark with the sign of the Army. So while Steve went out to take notes and a list of supplies we will need, Roman staked out the room he considers "most vulnerable" and Opal came in to protect me and guard the dog door.
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