Critter Crazy.

Ow.

I just snapped my thumb in a spring-loaded mouse trap, like you see in cartoons. And, just like on Looney Tunes, it turned red, grew to thrice its normal size, and throbbed visually. I howled like Sylvester and stuck it in my mouth (why we do this, I'll never know), hopping around the kitchen like a lunatic.

Critters: 1
Accidental Rancher: 0

Then an anvil fell on my head.

Well, it sure feels that way.

The good news is that the sun is slowly but surely starting to re-introduce itself to this part of the mountains after a very looooooong (albeit mild) winter. Of course, as I type that, it's gray and dreary and looks like rain outside, so who really knows. The kids'll be out of school for summer in something like ten days, and we're still seeing occasional snow flurries, which baffles my mind and goes against everything pure and holy. Can ya tell I wasn't made to be a mountain mama? I need some sun, quicklike.

The bad news, though, is that all those dormant critters want to come out to play in the sunshine too and I'm thrown right back into full-blown critter craziness at the Ranch. We've caught three mice in the house since yesterday, and one Accidental Rancher (whoops), but have seen several more since then. I'm not exactly afraid of mice, but seeing them skitter and scat across the room gives me the heebie-jeebies in a major way. The paper wasps are hard at work on their nests, too (though, so far, they're all still outside) and the carpenter ants just invade by the thousands. My morning routine involves squishing at least a dozen of the beasty, winged insects and a spider or twelve that congregate in the master bathroom. I went head to head with a GIANT furry bumble bee in the living room yesterday, and it was a close one, but me and my big fat issue of Country Sampler came out on top, evening up the score.

Critters: 1
Accidental Rancher: 1

Our cat, Charlie, has proven his manliness in exactly the wrong way, impregnating his mom and fathering his own brother, a little Charlie Jr., but leaving the mice to their own devices (and mine, if you count the mouse traps). Note to self: Call vet. Schedule a cat fixin'.

Last week, I caught the Littles in a plot to smuggle a dead bat carcas to school, sneaking the tiny plastic-bag-casket into a backpack when they thought I wasn't looking.

Ew.

The weirdest part of that story is that I discovered the thing already dead, it's wing fastened tightly inside the window, as if someone had closed the pane right on the thing, in the guest room, no less. No one took credit for that particular incident (and I sincerely hope it wasn't the work of a guest), so I guess we'll have to leave it off the scoreboard. Don't feel too bad for the little guy, though, there are thousands more of them flapping around in the roof, fighting the swallows and rodents for living space.

Sigh.

I know... it all comes with the territory... and soon enough, we'll all be moving on with our lives and this eekie season of life will be over. It's the down side of the summer here (if you can call it that, yet), but we'll keep doing our part to remain at the top of the food chain around here and hope that the slug we found in our bed was some sort of practical joke.