It was a camping trip I threw out there on a whim—hey, let’s just head over to Interlochen State Park for the week—we can do “lake living.” Tim could commute to work, and I could work online from a picnic table overlooking Duck Lake.
Little did I know I wouldn’t sleep the entire week.
Prep
I went out to get the camper ready for the first trip of the season. I was giddy with spontaneity and threw open the door… only to be greeted by mouse droppings everywhere.
I tiptoed in, shouting Nooooo! in my head.
Using just my fingertips, I found that they had spent the winter snacking on maple seedlings in the kitchen sink, used my utensil drawer as a latrine and had partied under Tim’s pillow.
I immediately went online to find tips for mouse cleanup. They all said the same thing: Prepare for warfare.
Donning a mask and gloves, I entered my own frontline and pulled everything out of the camper and cleaned. I noted the great timing of the mice, as I had all the gear on hand that I needed.
For days, I was relentless in my imagination of where they might have been. I wiped every surface. I used the wet vac on all the upholstery. I ran every pot and pan and utensil through the dishwasher. I washed bedding, and pitched rugs and replaced pillows. I was basically a force of destruction greater than the mice themselves.
That was Phase 1.
The wait
With a pristine camper, we put out a mouse trap to wait one week (per the Internet’s advice). (Note: Everyone said we should have put out dryer sheets in storage, which we have never done in 23 years of owning a camper and two cats, and will do so in Years 24+.)
Three days later, there was a mouse in the trap. Because there was no evidence that he’d traveled anywhere, we wondered if we’d LURED him in with peanut butter. We were fools.
But worse, I had to clean everything again because I am a freak. This time, I had Tim pull the camper up to the house, on the driveway, thereby cutting off all field mouse entry. I wiped everything down again, on a mission.
That was Phase 2.
The trip
Two days later, off we went on our Interlochen State Park staycation.
“Are you sure there’s no mice left?” the boys asked.
“It’s cleaner than when we bought it,” I replied. Truth be told, the camper had never had such a shakedown. I sniffed the couch cushions as we ate dinner that night with satisfaction—ah, yes, lemon and campfire smoke, with a hint of mouse death. I worried only that the chemicals would discolor our clothing.
Here’s where I want to mention that our first night camping was spent being held hostage by a MONSOON outside our camper door.
Yes, we’d gone to all this trouble to camp 8 miles from home, only to be trapped inside.
We sat inside and tried to love each other for hours until it was finally, finally, time to go to sleep. Who knew sleep would offer such relief from camping, as the outdoor rug floated away at the camper door?
“Tomorrow will be a much better day!” I shouted from my end of the camper to the boys at the other. “Night, love you!”
Kendall and Nelson pulled the little bunk curtains shut and settled in. Tim assured me there were no mice left in Interlochen, and then we turned out the lights.
Wake-up call
At 1:30 a.m., the curtain to our little room was yanked open with the force of a gorilla.
“MOM?”
My oldest gorilla stood silhouetted in the dim camper light.
“What are you doing!” I said. I was confused and drugged by disinfectant, having fallen asleep carefully not touching Tim’s side of the bed, the former flophouse.
“THERE IS A NEST OF BABY MICE IN MY BUNK!!!!” Kendall howled.
I leapt out of bed, blind (as a mouse) with no contacts in.
“That’s NOT funny!” I said. “There’s no way!”
But he wasn’t kidding.
Kendall had just gone to bed (hours after us), and when he finally pulled the blankets up to sleep… he had grabbed a handful of baby mice in the dark!!!
The exclamation points do not do this story justice.
Tim, resident rodent killer, investigated. Sure enough, five little mice, in a curled-up nest, barely alive, lay in the blanket. He took the nest outside, while Kendall shouted things like, I’ll never be the same! This is going to stunt my growth! I’ve been traumatized!
By the time Tim got back in, Kendall was laughing, Nelson was checking his bed furiously, and I was tearing the camper apart again.
The crime scene
After another Internet search, we figured out what had happened.
These little guys had a little bit of fur—placing them at 5-6 days old—the same day I put everything back in the camper after Phase 2.
Then, because they were almost lifeless, we figured we had separated them from the momma either by mousetrap (RIP) or by moving the camper a few days later.
I had cleaned that camper from top to bottom TWICE. However. Small confession. I had NOT revisited the bunks because I was so sure I was overreacting. I had found NOTHING in the bunks the first time; the second time, I just fluffed the blankets. Prepping it for birth.
We never did see another mouse. But when we got home, I cleaned the camper AGAIN (especially the bunks this time). Phase 3.
P.S. Since then, I convinced Tim we needed a bigger camper for the growing kids. We kissed the old one goodbye and will bring our new camper home next week. Phase 4. Full reopening coming soon!