I've been trying to catch up on our road travels in chronological order, but I'm skipping ahead. We are currently in Driggs,ID staying in a 2 Bedroom cabin on six private acres in the middle of freakin' nowhere. It is about an hour from Jackson Hole and the Grand Tetons and the closest we could get without selling an organ to pay for it. We arrived last night in Driggs, population 1,100 and hit this fantastic supermarket, which is no doubt supported by the tourists coming in to ski, canoe, kayak, bike and hike. We found our new digs quaint and well equipped. The kitchen is new, with nice appliances, always something that impresses me. We fed the boys dinner, played some cards,watched the sunset across the valley, sent the boys to bed and we followed suit shortly there after - to our own private bedroom! We haven't had private sleeping quarters since Santa Fe so we spent a few minutes "putting out" before we happily passed out.
Hours later, I was rudely awakened by a blinding white light and some mumbled mutterings from my DH as he rounded the bed toward the living room/kitchen. Did you say field mouse?, I asked. Yeah, he said. There is one stuck in a trap and the other is rumbling around in the Rice Krispies. Still too asleep to be concerned, I propped up on one elbow and peered out of the bedroom door where DH was standing just beyond it, naked, with two wooden salad spoons in his hands, ready to wrangle the wild west field mice. He finally discerned that there was only one mouse, and it was making a snap, krackle, pop sound trying to free himself from his sticky trap. So, DH bravely scooted, with the help of the wooden spoons and a few nervous twitches, the tarred varmint to the door and shoved him out into the brisk night air to meet his fate. (Me? I'm still in bed. After all, it only takes one person to wrangle a trapped mouse.)In the morning the poor guy was still alive, so deeming it a humane trap, DH wrestled him free, with much effort and the help of the same wooden salad spoons and released him back into the field. Only he was so damned sticky, he stuck to himself. I called the owner of the cabin and that's when I learned the trap wasn't humane at all. It was a one-time-use trap. It's the only time we will use the wooden salad spoons, too.