There’s something in our shed.  Something that comes in the middle of the night, drags our mouse traps around, licks up the peanut butter formerly on the traps, and then exits.

Tired of this intruder, I purchased the largest mouse trap I could find.  Prepping the trap, my teenager spied me.  “What is that trap for, a beaver?,” he asked in a teasing way.

Son, sometimes you have to aim for the rodent kill, even if it may end up being an overkill, with a trap designed for the big game hunter in mind.