The Harvard mice are more like you than you may want to admit; you both are in search of good food, comfy nesting quarters, and nighttime action.
My roommate was the first to arrive on campus in early August, brimming with excitement to move into our dorm. As she climbed the stairs of Canaday’s concrete towers, her anticipation swelled. That inaugural evening, she snuggled into her bed, the day’s excitement gently giving way to the first whispers of sleep. But, amidst the quiet, she heard a faint rustling from beneath her belongings. It was easy to dismiss the noise as the trees swaying in the night’s breeze. However, the truth was far more animate. Moments later, she locked eyes with the beady little eyes of the perpetrator.
The blood rushed from her head, paralyzing her body from her limbs to her toes. Before she could even shriek, the furry beast scurried across the carpet, leaped onto her sheets, and escaped under her bed, its flaccid tale disappearing in its wake. As soon as the creature was out of sight, she leaped from her bed and fled Canaday, clad only in her pajamas, to seek shelter in the pest-free Thayer Hall.
This was just the beginning of the Canaday F mice infestation. Canaday, built in 1974, was the last building constructed in the Yard and was intentionally designed to be riot-proof. One would think the door sweeps, lengthy flight of stairs, and two sets of locked doors to enter each suite would prevent pesky rodents from penetrating through. But the riot-proofing is not enough to protect against the smallest of inventions. Impressively, mice can squeeze through holes the size of a pencil, climb up radiator pipes, and jump like acrobats. And Canaday consistently seems to have a certain propensity to attract mice. Many residents blame Harvard for the rodent problems, claiming the University has done little to rid their dorms of rodents.
So, what is Harvard doing to prevent this rodent issue from persisting? With one quick Google search of “mice at Harvard,” you can find all the answers to your pesky problem on the Campus Services “Mice FAQs” page. There are no tangible solutions or numbers to call in a mouse emergency, but rather philosophical musings about their history at Harvard.
Mice are residents of Cambridge, so Harvard technically invaded their native grounds. As naturally curious and adept creatures, they enter buildings because they can, and they detect yummy foods or other mice.
Just like “The Chisler” in Cheaper by the Dozen 2, mice are drawn to food, valuables, and crinkly packaging, caching these items away in cracks in the walls, holes in furniture, and any other nook or cranny they can squeeze their way into. Similar to people, mice shelter in groups and then repopulate. Their large litters and short lifespans mean that a group of just two mice can grow to 1,250 in a year. Once they find a stash of Cheetos, chocolate, and a place to nest, why would they ever leave?
Another roommate of mine hears our rats in the radiators at night, haunting her dreams and disrupting her sleep. The noises and mouse droppings are the dismal reality of living in a Canaday suite. She has a litany of tales involving her encounters with these small, unwelcome companions within Canaday’s walls. One incident stands out vividly as she explains, “the most recent dramatic one was at 2 a.m. when I had to call Yard Ops because the mouse was chewing the wires to the back of my fridge.”
Not only were the mice preventing her sound sleep, but their gnawing through the plastic on electrical wires was a severe safety hazard. The Fire and Electrical Safety Ltd. warns that sparks from exposed wires can start devastating fires, especially when surrounded by insulation and wood like in the Harvard dorms. Furthermore, a not-so-fun fact is that mice’s teeth never stop growing, forcing them to gnaw through wires, wood, and radiators so their lower teeth don’t grow through the roof of their mouth and into their brains.
After frantically calling Yard Operations, they came an hour later. She sarcastically added, “What did they do? They just put more traps. That’s the magical solution to everything.” Jonathan Palumbo, the Director of Communications and Engagement for Harvard Residential Facilities reported in an email to the Independent that “they have a process in place to report any sightings immediately which launches a group of professionals who come in and address the issue as quickly as possible.” From peanut butter and jam sticky traps to old-fashioned snappers, peppermint spray, and anti-mouse patches, they have tried everything, yet the mice prevail.
A common question Yard Ops gets is, “Why can’t I just poison the mice?” Although this may be an effective method, the carcass will decompose in your walls and emit an odor permeating the dorm. As the carcass decomposes, the “clean-up crew” of flies, beetles, and moths feast on the meal. If that doesn’t work, others ask, “Can’t I just get a cat?” The Mice FAQs provide that cats are vital mouse predators and might be the solution, but it depends on who you ask. “Whereas cats would undoubtedly support the idea, the decision is up to the residents and building manager.” Apparently there are also “mouse-detection dogs,” but the Harvard-qualified pest control vendors and EH&S self-proclaim themselves as more adept at searching for mice and should be relied upon for expertise.
Nina Berkman ʼ27, an Independent staff member, returned from winter break to her room to find not one but a dozen new roommates. Tiny brown pellets were scattered across her couch, bookshelves, and desk—the little buggers had made her suite their new home.
Unfortunately, the mice did not just leave their tracks. “That’s when it started to happen; when I started hearing one in my bedroom,” Berkman said. “In two weeks, I had about six dead mice or more, two or three on my shelf, two under the heater, and another under my bed.” She faced both a psychological and physical toll from the visitors. Yard Ops reported to her mother in an email that Berkman had the worst case of mice they’ve seen in years.
Arriving home from a long day of classes or a late night at Lamont, the last thing a Harvard student needs is to lie awake at night in fear of an unwanted visitor. Harvard Campus Services acknowledges this issue: “Sharing your home or workplace with unwanted guests can contribute to an already stressful life,” but they provide little support for Harvard students dealing with persistent pests. The Harvard Environmental Health and Safety team treats mice like a symptom of stress akin to a paper or an annoying friend, advising that students “reach out for help to their residential and faculty advisors and building managers, as well as to the HUHS Center for Wellness and Health Promotion.”
Besides damaging physical infrastructure, house mice are more dangerous to your health than they look. The poop on your bed, urine on your carpet, saliva on your food, and deceased mice rotting in your walls calls into question the disease and health risk mice bring to Harvard students’ dorms. According to the CDC, mice are carriers of several dangerous diseases such as Hantavirus, Salmonellosis, the plague, and Lassa Fever. These diseases can be transmitted to humans either through direct contact such as touching or being scratched by mice, or indirectly through breathing in their air or by touching materials that they have contaminated. Even cleaning mouse droppings can put people at risk of contracting the host of diseases that they carry.
Mice at Harvard are no new phenomenon. Fortunately, the Mice FAQs reassure us that many notable Harvard alumni have endured encounters with mice. Palumbo writes, “Although such events may not have been desired, the experiences may quite possibly have positively influenced the graduate’s career and perspectives in appreciating nature and responding to life’s little challenges.” In his same email, Palumbo recognizes the “disruption that finding rodents in the Houses can cause and regret every instance when they occur.” However, it is evident that Harvard is generally unconcerned if the main reassurance they provide students is that they will graduate with a greater connection to “nature” and resilience to “little challenges” from their battles with mice.
With Harvard’s $49.495 billion endowment, one would hope our dormitories would be clean and devoid of pests, but the mice are persistent in their efforts. Palumbo emphasizes that students are “encouraged to follow best practices in their environments to help our efforts collectively.” So, it is safe to say that Harvard’s resident rodents are here to stay. In the meantime, to distract from the unwanted creatures climbing through your walls, take a look at Harvard Professors Steven Pinker and Tom C. Conley and Dean D. E. Lorraine Sterritt read “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie” by Laura Numeroff for a bit of entertainment.
Ellie Tunnell ʼ27 (ellie_tunnell@college.harvard.edu) has trapped three mice in her Canaday Suite.