Monday, 1 April 2013

The Feild Mice Call Me Slayer.

 I live in a mud hut with a thatched roof, where in the mice make their homes. I wouldn't have minded if they lived there (the mice), as long as they didn't make holes in my clothes, nests in my hair and eat all the food. But NO, they are hooligans and thieves and will eat through anything!

 So, war was thus declared and I began a life of murdering mice. Yes, missionary by day, mice slayer by night! I will not forget the first mouse I killed by my own hands. There I stood I staring at its now still body, tears streaming down my eyes knowing that I had just killed Steward Little. I questioned my morels like, "What's the difference between this and a bunny, would I kill a bunny?!" But, after a time my heart grew cold and I no longer felt remorse. In fact, I felt some small bit of victory. What have I become?! 

I killed this one with my foot. I felt kind of bad after...he was so little.

This one was HUGE!

This trap was made my my friend Merafu. Look as he fingers the popcorn with is last breath. :(

The kill and myself.

Now, I am not saying I am proud of these killings. This is one of the things that have dramatically changed in my life. I am no longer afraid of mice...The mice are afraid of me.


  1. Hello Abbi,
    We have gone a bit over the top have we. A bit of "Lord of the Flies" going on? Not so. War = killing humans under government sanction. Murder = unsanctioned killing of a human, killing mice = hunting. Part of a long and honored human tradition, though somewhat less impressive when a mouse is the trophy. Still, bare-handed is worth some serious points!

  2. As a Didinga Native, I would like to say thank you for what you and your fellow friends are doing in the area!

    I'm currently residing in Colorado and I'm interested in finding out more of your organization and the opportunities to help.

    Thank you and have a blessed day.