20/04/2024
The night before Thanksgiving, I was walking through our basement with an armload of firewood when I saw something that I could not quite believe. It was confusing and heartrending at the same time. A small mouse was sitting upright in the middle of our basement. It was hunched over, hanging its head with its eyes closed, and this may sound crazy, but it looked sad and completely defeated.
I approached it slowly, hoping that it was just fast asleep, drunk on whatever food it had managed to scrounge from our cellar. Sadly, that was not the case. As I reached out a hand to let it know that I was close, it lifted its head, looked up at me sideways, and slumped, hanging its head and closing its eyes again. It made no attempt to move. It was vulnerable and helpless.
As I gently picked it up, it did not protest - it assumed the same position. It looked up at me once, dropped its head to its chest again, and closed its eyes. Within a few minutes, it was asleep in my hand.
Close inspection revealed an injured rear leg that the mouse was dragging behind it. We consulted with a wildlife rehabilitator who was at capacity but offered valuable advice. She said it was likely nerve damage and suggested a week of cage rest to see if the injury would resolve on its own. So we spent the holiday weekend creating a habitat for and feeding our new guests. And we are seeing significant progress already.
Our guest will be with us for a few more days until it is strong enough to be integrated with a colony - at that time, we'll bring it to our dear friend Ellen Jareckie, a wildlife rehabilitator and the artist behind House-Mouse Designs. She will keep the mouse through the winter and release it when it is stronger, in early spring.
I think it would be safe to assume that many who read this will believe that I am nuts for spending days trying to rehabilitate a mouse, and I understand. But seeing a small, helpless creature in a vulnerable state broke my heart. I had to do something.