The Mouse Trap

Harry greeted every day with enthusiasm, but none more so than when he was out in the rugged bush of the ranges. Not the sort of man that liked to be confined to four walls, he liked to go hunting and back to the basics was his way of relaxing. This time he was with his grandson whom he was especially proud. Not only had Morgan inherited a sharp eye, but he had learnt well the craft of hunting from his granddad. 

Harry sprang out of his sleeping bag and quickly dressed. It was cold in the bush hut. They weren’t made of insulation but the bare necessities of keeping you dry and blending in with nature. He would put his glasses on and hearing aids in and make a pot of hot tea. Nothing like having a plan. He put his glasses on then found to his horror that he had only one hearing aid. He searched all over the room and then in defeat admitted he needed another pair of eyes in the search. 

‘Morgan, I can’t find my hearing aid. I’ve got one but no sign of the other.’ 

Morgan strode across. At six foot six, he didn’t need to rush quickly to get to where he wanted to be within the confines of the hut. They both decided on a methodical search. First the clothes Harry had worn last night. The pockets of his swanndri jacket, the inside of his sleeping bag and turned everywhere around, but there was still no hearing aid.  

‘This is stupid Morgan. I've never in all my years of hunting lost anything that was precious to me in the bush. Never.’  

‘But I put them on there,’ Harry pointed to the small table where his glasses and a glass of water had been sitting.’ 

‘Shh,’ said Morgan. 

Harry gave Morgan a quizzing look. 

‘What?’ 

‘I heard a rustle of something in the kitchen.’ 

Harry followed closely on the heels of Morgan. 

‘It’s coming from around here,’ pointing to a log, 'and look at those scratch marks.’ 

Up the side of the wall there were the unmistakable paw marks of a rodent. Harry’s years of experience told him it was a large bush mouse. Morgan carefully examined the scratch marks and tracked it to where a spare hollow log lay on the floor near the door. 

‘It coming from inside here.’ 

Harry peered through the log. He could see the bush mouse.   

Morgan looked through the log from the other end.  

‘Hey Pop, he’s got your hearing aid.’ 

‘What? Look don’t talk daft. What would he want with a hearing aid? I’ve never heard anything . . .’ 

‘No seriously. I can see it shiny and small.’ 

‘Right we're going to get it back.’  

Years of being in police service had never left Harry, who always fought the wrongs of the world and this bush-mouse was no different. 

Harry wielded a swift blow with his bush knife hoping to make the mouse’s life as quick and end as was humanely possible. It was too late the mouse had detected the movement and had moved up the log.   

As Morgan lay sprawled across the kitchen floor peering through the log he pointed to his pop where the mouse was. 

‘Right this time for sure,’ said Harry. 

He took a shorter approach but just as swift at the log with a larger knife. In total fear the bush-mouse base-jumped across the face of Morgan, onto his shoulder and out the door. 

There was silence from the two men. Morgan felt he had let his granddad down.  

‘Well that it then. Sorry about that Pops. Looks like you only have one hearing aid left.’ 

Harry, brooding at the near miss didn’t respond.  

‘I’m going hunting then Pops.’ 

Looking at his grandfather who hadn’t responded again Morgan raised his voice and repeated. 

‘OK, no need to yell. I'm not entirely deaf you know.’ 

Morgan turned his back and grinned as he packed up his rifle, backpack and put on his boots. The thought of heading up into the hills of the Tararua Ranges and bringing back some venison would cheer Pops up. It would also cheer Pops up to see him succeed. He tramped up the hill with this one aim in mind.  

Harry stayed at the hut. He had made himself a cup of tea and was reading an old newspaper before he made it into kindling material for that evening. He decided to put together a makeshift mousetrap. He set it all together with cheese placed in the right position to entice the ‘critter’ as Harry was given to call him now. He then took his rifle and decided to take it apart and give it a good clean. After putting it all back together he decided to check the site of the rifle. As he raised it up a little wax eye came and sat on the end.  

‘Oh, you think you are clever, don’t you?’ Harry said out loud and grinning to himself. He was known as a 'softie' when it came to birds. He had been known to have several Tui around his home when other people were lucky to have more than one or two. The wax eye pushed his breast out in a boasting fashion as it struts along the barrel of the rifle.  

Harry could only smile. He loved all of the nature around him, but he had to admit he had been out-witted.   

The bush-mouse walked up to trap. It took one look at the cheese and gave a disdainful look. It scurried away. Harry took his rifle inside and brought out some peanut butter. He spread a nice big dollop of it on the cheese. 

‘Let’s see if you like this then. 

Harry sat back down with a book he had also bought along. He would never have done this before but now that he was not an active hunter like he used to be, he decided it would be nice to do a bit of reading here and there and blind Morgan with some amazing pieces of trivia.   

Harry had found that he actually preferred to cook a meal now. It was nice to lead people along the way, but there comes a time in life he thought when you had to let those you have shown take the lead and you can watch and learn from them.  

As he sat in the sun reading his book, he heard a snap. 

‘Aha! My friend you have come to visit me again. You couldn’t resist the peanut butter with cheese, could you?’ 

Harry picked up the trap but suddenly the bottom fell out. Harry’s brisk reflexes saved his dignity by being able to catch the mouse by the tail. There in full view was his hearing aid. He swiftly brought the ‘critter’ into the hut. It tried to curl up towards its tail making it difficult to hold, as it twisted its body the hearing aid fell to the floor. Harry looked down at it. The bush-mouse looked down at it.  

Harry flung the bush mouse into the fire, which he had stoked to keep the hut warm. He felt sad for the little critter. His thoughts quickly turned to the bird life that had a tough time surviving from the stoats, feral cats and rats. Harry decided it had to be the best way. If the bush-mouse thought that a hearing aid was form of food then it was entirely the best thing for him. He would never survive very long on that. 

Morgan walked back down the hill with a large carcass. 

‘What do you think?’ 

‘Excellent. It’s been a great day.’ Harry smiled broadly. 

‘Hey how did you get your hearing aid back?’ 

‘They can’t resist peanut butter.’ They both laughed. 

 The next morning the two men pack up and head back home 

‘It’s great having time with you Pop I learn so much.’ 

‘Yes, you’re as good as me now. Just promise me one thing Morgan.’ 

‘What’s that then?’ 

‘Not a word of this to your father.’ 

‘No fear. He wouldn’t believe me, although it would be fun. Actually he is too busy to listen. '

Harry smiled. His secret was safe. He felt sad for Morgan, but safe with his secret.