Further note of minor caution...
Make sure to mouse-proof your food supplies... not sure whether they're still active in the dead of winter, but I bet they are: I spent a sleepless night in late August in the furthest-out bunkhouse at Carter, at the merciless fuzzy white little paws of a vicious posse of deer mice.
First woke to the menace at about 10pm, when I heard the scritch-scritch of someone eating cashews and called up to my 10-year old, who was quite sound asleep, oblivious to the deer mouse I caught in my flashlight beam about 10 inches from his head. Mr. Mouse looked down at me rather defiantly, and only moved lazily away via the roof rafters when he was pretty sure I was fully out of my sleeping bag and materializing as a significant threat.
Let me tell you kids, these are some smart mice, and they have us figured out right down to our timing and our habits.
The rest of the night passed in a series of 15-minute spasms. Just about the time I would start to fall asleep, flashlight in my hands crossed on my chest, I would hear the scratching of little paws and the sound of digging claws on Cordura. I'd sit up and snap on the beam, and they'd do the casual Michigan J. Frog out of sight as I got up to chase them away. They twittered and flittered over my wife's hand. They dug vigorously at the pack that I foolishly moved close to my head -- I even saw a tiny tail peeking out of a zippered pocket, which I proceeded to bludgeon brutally with an empty wine bottle, fully expecting to find puree of mouse by the dawn's early light. Nuthin'. Mice 6, Humans 0.
Then again, if you brought up a sled full of mousetraps...