0500 hours: I hear a muffled snap from the other end of the house.
It is finished, then. One of two traps did its job and I roll over, satisfied. I can wait 'til daylight to dispose of the remains.
But then I reflect. My wife rises early and there is no sense subjecting her to the horrors of war. Two minutes later, I rise.
Flicking on the pantry light, I see the trap with a double load of super-glued peanuts still set on the floor. This was a new location, with the trap wedged against the bottom rim of the shelves, designed to limit the angles of approach. Apparently the enemy returned to the original battle ground, a sheltered site on a bottom shelf next to the trash bags.
I bend down to pay my respects. True warriors do not relish killing.
A peanut is still firmly attached to the plastic cheese pad. The trap has not sprung.
The last peanut was stale and dry roasted. It had already claimed several combatants before falling to this wily foe, but it was time for different tactics. Besides, these fat new peanuts were attached at some price. So tonight, we add the peanut butter.
We are making progress. We lost no peanuts last night. The enemy is on the run. Now, let's finish the job.
