Last week, while drinking a beer and shmoozing with a neighbor at my apartment one evening, we heard faint squeals emanating from the corner of the living room. At first, we ignored them, thinking it was coming from outside, but when the squeals continued, I walked over to investigate. As luck would have it, a baby mouse had gotten himself stuck on a glue trap left by the exterminators. This thing was teeny tiny. Being the soft and gentle warrior that I am, we quickly moved the party to the deck and collected the necessary tools that would we required for an emergency dislodging - namely a sharp kitchen knife. Operating ever-so delicately, we worked diligently for 10 minutes to remove the baby mouse from the glue bed on which he lay. At first, it was a game of see-saw....we'd get his feet loose, only to see him do a nose-dive into the glue. Eventually, after some skillful freehand maneuvers (think a cross between a sushi chef and a heart surgeon), we managed to free the little guy, dropping him into my herb garden tray, strategically placed in the mint section. I figured the peppermint aroma might help him recover from his trauma and if he wanted to eat some of the mint for nourishment, I didn't mind. He suffered some injury to his left front leg, and it wasn't clear whether the damage was permanent. My friend, Gian, suggested we place a soda can beside the mint for shelter, in case the little guy needed a home in which to rest. In the end, we decided to let nature take its course, and by morning, the mouse was nowhere to be found. I've since collected all my glue traps and tossed them in the trash.