The mice on Vancouver Island have eaten, in no particular order, my tent, my water bottle, my bear-proof food sack, my protein powder, my cycling gloves and my pannier rain covers. I talked to a local near Buttle Lake who said last year was a population boom for the mice and they’re still waiting for the predatory species to catch up. He’s an outdoor educator and apparently they’ve had to relocate trips away from traditional campsites to avoid the mice. Each night on the north island I could hear them running around my head as I fell asleep. Pardon me but fuck those little devils. If I could lace my belongings with poison I would.
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