Last night, I got a rather nasty surprise.
I was gathering eggs (15 thankyouverymuch) and I noticed that one of the waterer's was empty.(spell check doesn't like "water-ers, but...what else do you call them???) So, I grabbed the waterer to fill it up. As I lifted it off the cinder block that keeps it off the floor, 4 little mice ran out from the holes in the cinder block.
Fortunately, not one made a mad dash to my legs or feet. Two went up the wall by the nesting boxes the other two went somewhere else--but not up my legs. (You have my permission to shudder. That's what I did. Shudder, some fancy footwork and some noise, all while holding that waterer. If it wasn't already empty, it would have been after my fancy footwork.)
Once it was safe, I scolded the chickens. After all, they should have made a mad dash for that fresh protein! But, instead, they just looked at me as if to say, "Woman, it's 105 degrees outside, and I am not in the mood to chase my food today." (That's what I'd say if some wacko person told me to go chase down some food when it's 105 outside.)
Thinking it was now safe, I peeked down into the cinder block and saw little things squirming. Baby mice. [go ahead and shudder] Baby mice are not cute. They look like little pink and gray slugs with feet and a long tail. [you can shudder again if you want.]
Andy and I got the shovel and scraped these disgusting, squirming vermin and carried them outside (on the shovel) and deposited them outside for the cats to dispose of. Except, those cat's had just dined on succulent dry cat food, and they weren't any more interested in the mice than the chickens had been. Stupid cats.
Didn't matter. We deposited them outside and left. I'm sure they are all gone today. But I'm not going to look. My hope is that the chickens found them and decided that a breakfast of baby mice was just the thing. [take your final shudder now.]