As an undergrad I was working in a behavioral neuroscience lab with mice (pretty much injecting them with nicotine and shocking them). One day I was putting some fancy mouse in a chamber (ya know one of those that shocks it, feeds it, etc.), I turned my head for some reason and when I turned my head back the mouse had crawled up my lab coat sleeve. It then proceeded to quickly climb further up the sleeve and around to my back - as I'm sure you can imagine I was jumping around like a monkey trying to figure out how to get the mouse out without hurting it or losing it.
Long story short (ok.. its short no matter how you tell it) I couldn't use the mouse for the experiment. It must have been a little emotionally shaken up (well more than emotionally really)
When I was an undergrad, I worked in a behavioral neurosciene lab, too. I injected Japanese quail with cocaine, instead of nicotine, though. We had them escape all the time, but the funniest lab accidents were always in the pigeon lab next door. Pigeon are a.) smarter than most psychologists, and b.) better at flying than most psychologists (even with clipped wings). Inevitably, one would end up in the rafters beneath the 15-ft ceiling, with grad students and undergrads waving brooms at them below.
I first got involved with mice when I got a lab tech job as an undergraduate. The other technician was going to show me how to hold a mouse, but I wasn't really paying attention because I thought the mice were kind of cute. So, I just picked a mouse up and put it in my hand.
The cute little white mouse sunk it's teeth deep into the end of my middle finger.
I screamed, shook my hand, and smacked the mouse on the table.
Needless to say, it died instantly and I've hated mice ever since.