So, they're getting smarter! It makes a difference how much peanut butter you apply, how much it sticks up, and exactly how tenuously you hook the wire up.
I'm trying to imagine myself a mouse with a taste for danger. It must be a huge thrill to lick it clean and get away--an even huger thrill to actually trip the dingaling, see it fly across the room and find yourself still breathing, albeit with a somewhat accelerated heart rate.
Are they watching me when I disgustedly pick up the empty trap, yucking it up and licking their lips in anticipation of another dose of Jif? Do they make bets with one another?
"OK, Charley, it's your turn. Lick it clean and you get the Ramen noodle stash all to yourself. Mess up, and it's all mine. Betcha can't do it. Nyah nyah."
"You noodle-head Seamus! I've done this so many times, I can do it with my eyes shut. Stand back, you weaney-eyed mange ball. Let a pro show you how."
Meanwhile, their nemesis is baiting, waiting and hoping. Death comes to us all. May Jif show you the way.