By the The Never-Bored RVers
In the horror movie “RV,” one of the most memorable scenes was Robin Williams’ battle with the raccoons that had invaded their motorhome oven. He won the battle at the expense of the interior of the coach.
Raccoons have not been a problem for us, although their penchant for finding leftovers in campsites can cause them to congregate. On the other hand, we have recently contended with another invasion.
Nobody likes to talk about it, but apparently visits by mice is a common problem for RVers, particularly those camping in wooded areas. We avoided telling others about our problem, since it implies that our trailer might not be pristine clean, but when we have talked about mice on board, we found RVers nodding their heads in agreement.
Our plight began about two weeks ago while we were parked deep in a National Forest campground in Washington State. A beautiful spot adjacent to a flowing blue-green river, under fir trees that climbed straight up forever, very few mosquitoes. .
Authors and lecturers Joe and Vicki Kieva started out an RV-buying seminar five years ago with, “There is no perfect RV.” We agree, but we add to that the statement, “There is no perfect campground.” Silver Fir Campground was perfect – until …
Night One – the pitter-patter of little feet across our living room (we call it “the Grand Salon”) carpet. “Couldn’t be a mouse. How could he get in here? 
We didn’t wait for the little guy to give us an answer. I spotted the tiny mouse with my big Maglite. I swear he was smiling at me, daring me to catch him. Too adorable to try to squish, Monique suggested that I throw a bucket over him. I actually did, but I used a basket woven from loose raffia, which held him in check for all of about three seconds.
He scooted out and was gone under the recliners. Under the counter. Under the door to the bathroom. And from there he disappeared, soon to be heard crawling through the heater ducts. Thank heaven he couldn’t get into the food cabinets.
I filled a humane Spin-TrapTM with peanut butter, a system which had worked perfectly the other time I went on a mouse-hunting trip. Not this time. He avoided the trap that night, a sleepless one for us both.
Having a less humane attitude the next night, I set out two glue-traps, the flat pads that act like quicksand keeping the prey from escaping. Bingo! The problem was solved.
Well, not really. There must have been two that had gotten in at the same time, because the next night was a repeat of little footsteps across the carpet, and this time my flashlight found a little face staring back at me from a basket.
Fortunately, I had six glue traps in the back of our truck (we believe in being prepared), so I put out two more, and dang if a few minutes after lights out we hadn’t caught two more of the little fellas in one trap. We were astounded!
Still wanting to be humane, I dropped the invaders into a plastic bag and killed them before depositing their little carcasses in the dumpster rather than thinking about them in agony awaiting a cat to say, “Suffring Succotash,” before putting them out of their misery.
Alternative Two would be to just toss them outside and dispose of them in the morning, but that would allow time for ants to invade, and if a predator like an owl came by to investigate, he would also get stuck in the glue. So I made the chilly walk to the trash for the second time of the night.
The Spin-Trap and glue traps are, to me, the best remedy for the impossible-to-capture rodents. The traditional mousetrap makes me fear having to clean up debris after the kill. Even worse would be laying out poison they would eat before retreating into some never-to-be found crevasse of the RV.
Let’s see … where was I in this adventure? Shortly after we retired that night we heard tiny footsteps, and within an hour three mice were caught. Next night, another two. Etc., etc., etc. Six nights in a row we were kept awake on our vigil. We captured a total of nine mice. A total ordeal.
When we left this almost-perfect resting spot for our next campground, I finally decided to check out the entire trailer underside.
I hadn’t found any suspicious openings in my first two searches, except for a tiny opening for the TV cable, which I ruled out as an entry but stuffed foil into it anyway. This time it didn’t take long to realize that an underside box that houses the heater had separated from the corrugated plastic bottom (possibly on our Alaskan adventure this summer).
I grabbed a can of foam insulation — which always manages to mess up whatever I’m wearing — and sprayed it in the cracks. Voila! We seem to be free of the varmints again.
But even weeks later, every time we hear a noise at night – whether it be a pine twig hitting the awning, a squirrel walking across the roof, a creak caused by the wind or a neighbor’s heater going on, we quickly regain consciousness, awaiting the little scurrying that means another sleepless night.
[By the way, please don’t mention to anyone that we had mice in our RV. It’s very embarrassing!]
From the “Never-Bored RVers,” We’ll see you on down the road.