The Crime of Being Small

Grace Woytta
Feb 18
11 min read

Updated: 4 days ago

I’m sorry for scaring you…

Waking up before sunrise has never been a chore, despite having school all week. At ten years old, I had lots of responsibilities. My parents recently bought me a horse, and I had to go to the barn to work off board. I had to feed the horses, turn them out into their paddocks, clean the stalls and aisle ways, and prepare their nightly feedings. Usually, this took me seven hours, but I didn’t mind. Though it was a lot of work, and draining at times, it was a joy to be surrounded by the animals and the serene lifestyle of the farm. Sometimes, all you need to hear is the sound of crickets and the chirps of barn swallows to get you through the day.

I would come across a lot of friends as I worked throughout the day, whether I was cleaning stalls or driving out in the fields to dump manure. Among the birds, bees, foxes, coyotes, and deer, there was always an animal that stuck out to me despite its tiny size. Most of the time, I’d only see them through my peripheral vision—little brown figures zooming against the wall of the barn and shoving themselves into the tiny crevices in its foundation. A Deer Mouse! Before I could get a good look at them, they were gone. If I felt lucky, I would sneak into the hayloft to get a view of the delicate brown creatures, though it seemed like they could hear me coming from a mile away. As soon as I peeked my head above the staircase and got a good look at the four-legged animal, they would scurry off into the confines of the stacked hay. It was so frustrating. Didn’t these mice know I was their friend?

Unfortunately, the barn owner didn’t feel the same way I did about my newfound friends. It wasn’t long after these mice were lured by traps after finding one dead in a grain bin. The poor thing chewed a hole through the plastic bin and ended up suffocating under the weight of horse feed. Instead of purchasing higher-quality bins to store the feed, the barn owner invested in barn cats and sticky traps. Most mornings, I would head to the grain bin to feed the horses their

breakfast and find an innocent creature, that weighs an ounce, stuck to the glue, most of them still alive (Brooks). The living ones exhausted themselves; their brown fur matted down in the glue after their attempts to free themselves. Their bodies contorted as if they were playing a sick game of Twister. Upon seeing me, they’d let out a terrified squeak. Imagine that feeling—being physically restrained, waiting for death, and the being you’ve been desperately hiding from confronts you. Eyes and mouths glued shut; all these mice can do is wait for their painful, inevitable deaths.

Do you know how sticky traps work? According to Alexa Erickson in her article, “Do Sticky Mousetraps Work,” sticky traps have “many benefits.” They do not use toxic baits, they’re simple, easy to use, inexpensive, and the mice “die on the glue as opposed to wandering off and dying in an unknown location as they do with poison” (Erickson). Despite the “convenience” of using these traps, people do not realize how absolutely inhumane this is. The mouse encounters the sticky surface through their feet or fur, and “the more the mouse struggles, the more it becomes entangled in the adhesive” (Green). As the poor creatures attempt to free themselves, they become more embedded in the glue, break and tear off bones, or even bite through their own limbs in attempts to free themselves. This happens more often than you’d think. At the farm, most mice I would encounter on these traps gnawed off their limbs, hoping to be freed from the trap they’d unfortunately walked into. After their struggle, they may “succumb to exhaustion… die of suffocation when the glue lodges in their nasal passages… [or die] from a combination of exhaustion or dehydration” (Stone). Their suffering can take hours or even days. Needless to say, seeing these innocent animals struggle to escape these sticky traps at the barn always leaves a lump in my throat. To witness this atrocity and to never speak up about it made me feel guilty. Though I wasn’t setting out the traps, I was an accomplice in their murders. Instead of voicing that killing these animals was wrong, I was a bystander to their demise. Taking a shovel, I would always put them out of their misery and secretly throw away any traps that were set out to keep anymore mice from dying. Despite ending their suffering, I was still to blame. Not only was I a bystander, but I was also an executioner. I used a shovel like a guillotine, taking the lives of the innocent. Granted, I was doing what was right at the time, but I still carry the guilt today. The mice didn’t deserve this.

I’m sorry you think I’m a pest…

“Damn pests, they’re always ruining things,” she’d say, as she would take the murdered mice and throw them in a bucket full of horse manure. Her detached actions baffled me. She threw those mice in that bucket as if they didn’t exist. As if she hadn’t killed them with those torturous traps. As if she was the victim, putting value over herself and the animals she was taking care of over these smaller creatures simply trying to survive. She simply turned a blind eye to this cruelty. But don’t worry, these animals she just killed were pests. Their lives have as much value as the word conveys. The unfortunate ones are murdered without a second thought. All because of the word pest. Pests, pests, pests…

The definition of a “pest” has never made sense to me. According to the Webster’s Dictionary, a pest is “a plant or animal detrimental to humans or human concerns” (“Pest,” def. 2b). The term is used for creatures that damage crops, livestock, forestry, and homes. It is an interesting concept that mice, in general, are considered pests. They “infiltrate” our homes and “damage” them in the process. They chew through the boxes of “sentimental” items we keep buried in our garages and chew the seats out of the vehicles we’ve left sitting in our barns for years. Gosh, how dare they! How dare they try to survive in the new habitats we have forced upon them! They lived in the woods before the developer of your subdivision destroyed it. They lived in the agricultural fields (which also destroyed their habitat) that were sold off to investors who turned their home into office buildings and factories. These poor, palm-sized mice are simply trying to survive in the new world we have dropped them into.

Before living in sheds, agricultural fields, and in rural garages, Deer Mice mainly lived in open grasslands, forests, cliffs, and brushy country. They prepare their nests in tree hollows, log piles, beneath decks, and now, in old fence posts (Bunker). At times, they use abandoned squirrel and bird nests as opposed to building their own. If they build their own, they spend their nights forming insulated cup-shaped nests made of stems, leaves, feathers, and fibrous materials. These nests provide a home for a mother, father, and their 4 to 6 children (Bunker). These children, or pups, become independent in just 35 days, leaving the nest to make their own (Bunker). Their lifespan is on average a year; they have little time to successfully build a home, find a mate, and have children before dying. That’s without human interference. They have so much to do in so little time, and so many obstacles limiting their survival. The only thing they want to do is survive.

I’m sorry, but we are the same…

In all reality, humans are a lot like the Deer Mouse. They are like the hardworking, resourceful farmers and construction workers, tirelessly gathering food and building nests. They’re like private detectives, sneaking around unnoticed. They’re like community workers and social workers, living in social groups that rely on cooperation for survival. They’re curious engineers and adventurers constantly exploring their surroundings. Most of all, they’re like survivalists, displaying their high adaptability and resilience, able to thrive in various environments.

This begs the question of whether or not humans are pests. If Deer Mice have the same characteristics as humans, wouldn’t humans be considered pests as well? Although people think humans are the “superior” race, we cause detrimental harm to ourselves and other species on this planet without thought. We encroach on these animals’ homes and somehow victimize ourselves when they find their way into ours. Instead of finding productive ways to live with these animals, we kill them without a second thought. Their lives are meaningless after they “damage” our homes despite damaging theirs first. We simply turn a blind eye towards the treatment of other animals simply because we are “larger” than them. Larger physically, larger mentally, larger in terms of superiority… but just because we are large doesn’t necessarily make us better. Rather, being large causes immense harm to those who are trying to survive. Being large causes us to

lack accountability for our actions and acknowledge the harm we are doing to not only our plant and animal relatives but also to ourselves. This dangerous mindset has caused us to veer off of ethical and moral implications of the value and treatment of humans and nonhumans. It has caused us to completely erase the unity between humans and nonhuman relatives, when we need those relationships to prosper. Is it not hypocritical to consider a mouse the problem, when we’re the ones who created the problem in the first place? It seems as though being “large” is not something to be proud of.

There is a lot to learn from the Deer Mouse in terms of learning how to be “small.” Mice live in harmony with their environment with minimal impact. Mice recognize the vastness of the universe and their small place within it. Mice find joy and sustenance in the smallest of things—in everyday details that often go unnoticed. Mice value quality over quantity, caring for themselves and others by focusing on what truly matters. Mice acknowledge their vulnerabilities and limitations, relying on their small size to navigate the world. However, all of these qualities are diminished by the harsh mindsets our society has created. Mice have large ambitions, goals, and ideas, yet they’re challenged by a world dominated by Mankind. It seems as though we need to think about being “small” and living by the influence of the Deer Mouse. To live in a world where we value all things, no matter how insignificant they seem, to enjoy everyday details we overlook, and to focus on what truly matters seems a lot more rewarding than torturing others simply because we believe we are more important.

I’m sorry, you need to change…

In order to visualize the changes humans need to face in order to live “small,” we can look at Althea Davis’s poem “The Crime of Being Small.” It goes like this:

If I am killed simply for living,

Let death be kinder than man.

And God,

Please let the deer on the highway

get some kind of Heavan,

Something with tall, soft grass

and sweet reunion.

Let the moths in the porch lights

go someplace with a thousand suns,

that taste like sugar and get swallowed whole.

May the mice in oil and glue

have forever dry, warm fur and full bullies.

I pray nobody kills me for the crime of being small.

The poem reflects deep empathy for all living creatures and emphasizes their inherent value despite their size. The speaker’s plea for a kinder death than the cruelty they face in life is a commentary on the harshness of the world due to human involvement—these animals would not be killed out of immoral or unethical constructs without human involvement. The plea to God and the requests for a better afterlife for deer, moths, and mice emphasize a longing for a

world where even the smallest beings are treated with compassion and respect. The final line, “I pray nobody kills me for the crime of being small,” emphasizes the vulnerability of small creatures and the injustices they face. Davis causes us to reflect on our treatment of those who are small or seemingly insignificant and to consider the moral implications of our actions.

Considering the treatment of the mouse is a great way to reflect on the moral implications of our actions. Davis provides a vivid image of the cruelty towards the mice, who fall victim to traps and poisons set by humans. She mentions “oil and glue,” evoking the harsh and inhumane conditions these innocent creature endure through human involvement. By referencing these traps, Davis highlights the terrible fate of these small creatures, drawing on their suffering.

Davis then shifts to a hopeful and compassionate wish for the mice, imagining a better existence for them in the afterlife, describing them having “forever dry, warm fur and full bellies.” This imagery is a sharp contrast with the earlier depiction of their suffering, offering a vision of a world where these tiny beings are safe, comfortable, and well nourished. The idea of “forever” suggests an eternal state of peace and contentment, free from the dangers they face in the human world.

It is unfortunate that we cannot live in a world that seems eternal; where all living beings are treated with kindness and care, regardless of their size. Where all animals feel safe, peace, contentment, and love from their neighbors. Where humans see the value in all living beings, no matter how insignificant they may seem. We need to face these harsh realities, acknowledge our cruelty to our nonhuman relatives, and give them the respect they deserve. Only then can we

realize how valuable small creatures are, and how we need them more than they need us. Only then can we learn how to be “small.”

I’m sorry, you’re the one to blame…

In a sense, we are stuck in a sticky trap just like the Deer Mice at the horse farm. We are simply trying to survive in the harsh environment we have created. We are trying to build homes for ourselves, find suitable partners, and create a family before our time runs out. It’s easier said than done because of the world we have created. We have created a dangerous society in which humans are the most important species, turning a blind eye to the disgusting treatment of nonhuman relatives. Just as a mouse is lured into a trap with cheese, we are lured into the capitalistic trap of valuing monetary gain and materialism over the lives and relationships between nature and humans.

The relentless pursuit of profit in a capitalistic society mirrors the Deer Mouse’s constant search for resources. Industries driven by financial gain exploit natural resources unsustainably, similar to how the Deer Mouse must compete and adapt to the vanishing habitats due to human expansion. The expansion of urban areas, agriculture, and industrial buildings encroaches on the natural habitats of the Deer Mouse, displacing them and their ecosystems. The Deer Mouse faces threats from predators in harsh conditions, much like humans face pressures and demands in their pursuit of success.

Both humans and the Deer Mouse find it difficult to escape the traps that are inflicted by humans. As we struggle to navigate this demanding society, we can learn from the resilience of the Deer Mouse and recognize the importance of reorienting our values to prioritize sustainability. We need to realize that we are not the victims; rather, we are the bystanders and executioners. We need to acknowledge murdering innocent creatures for our benefit; the detachment of killing animals needs to end. Most of all, we need to thank the Deer Mouse for teaching us how to be small. By doing so, we can escape our sticky trap and create a world where an animal isn’t punished for being too small. Because I know, “If I am ever caught up in the wrong place… just being alive and not bothering anyone, I hope I am greeted with… mercy” (Giovanni).