These essays don’t have to be read in order, but previous ones are here and here.
National Park. Photo: Matthew Field
In the early nineties a mysterious respiratory illness emerged on the Navajo reservation. The illness claimed few victims, but most of those stricken died, and – even more unsettling – most were young and previously healthy. Epidemiologists pounced on empirical data while health officials informed an alarmed public that the disease was contained and not transmissible between humans.
Those of us living in the Sonora Desert on wimmin’s land were concerned about our own exposure. Though we were several hundred miles from the Navajo reservation, the similarities in our low tech way of life made us wonder. We spent most of our days outdoors rather than in our cramped living quarters. A few trailers had running water but most women carried water in buckets to their domiciles. Old and rustic buildings had nooks and crannies for wildlife to nest. Fires used for heating, cooking, and ritual meant woodpiles, and woodpiles attract all kinds of vermin. Though most of the women were spectacularly uninterested in the patriarchal news media, we followed reports on this unknown illness thoroughly (and suspiciously).
Eventually the culprit was declared to be a variant of hantavirus, already common in Asia but heretofore unidentified in the Western Hemisphere. The vector was determined to be Peromyscus maniculatus, the North American Deer Mouse. Humans became exposed to the virus by breathing air contaminated with Deer Mouse feces and urine. A cursory examination of medical history revealed that the disease was an endemic one that had recently flared into an epidemic, possibly fueled by a mouse irruption.
Health officials emphasized that the vector was only one recalcitrant member of the Deer Mouse family, but we maintained a skepticism that was eventually confirmed. Hantavirus is endemic in many Deer Mouse populations throughout Arizona, New Mexico, southwestern Texas, southeastern California and the northern Mexican states. People in cities, or even in modern houses in the backcountry, are at miniscule risk of exposure, unless they also ranch or farm. People in rustic living conditions can usually avoid exposure, if they take precautions.
Thus began the wimmin’s land war on mice.
We donned gloves, wrapped bandanas around our faces, and restacked wood, clearing out nests and feces. We plugged holes under structures and closed doors where possible. We became scrupulously clean about cooking and washing up, no easy feat in primitive circumstances. We habitually scanned the area for nests in an ongoing campaign we could not afford to relax.
Even before we recognized them as vectors of a deadly disease, the mice were a nuisance. They quickly spoiled any food not hermetically sealed. They dragged sharp cactus balls into houses or even into beds. They chewed the outdoor extension cords some women funneled to their huts for lighting, so that you had a choice of fire danger from candles or fire danger from electrical cords. They even got under the hoods of cars and ate the wire insulation, so that you had to start your car every few days and check under the hood. The constant harassment from mice was one of the reasons we tolerated snakes on the land, even rattlers.
Z Budapest once told me that, in folklore, mice are “the enemy of women.” I thought that was overstating their deleterious qualities just a bit, but, I’ll tell you, I grew to hate the critters. Yes, they are cute and cuddly looking. They’re also smart, tenacious, quick-footed, and impossible to intimidate absolutely. Like dogs in a Disney movie, they will always find their way home when relocated. I’ve seen them drive even dedicated vegans to deploying death-traps. The war between mice and women will always be a draw, but it’s war we must keep fighting.
Further Reading:
If you need to address hantavirus concerns around your domicile. https://www.countynewscenter.com/cactus-mice-test-positive-for-hantavirus-first-local-detection-of-2020/
If you want to read more about the Cactus Deer Mouse. https://arizonadailyindependent.com/2017/01/08/the-cactus-mouse-another-creature-of-the-night/
About the history of the Sin Nombre orthohantavirus. https://www.sciencedirect.com/topics/neuroscience/sin-nombre-virus