It took three nights, but my buddy in the woodpile finally fell for it.
The second night I found the trap tripped and the bread but not the peanut butter gone. I suspect a bird.
By the third night, my traumatized friend was relaxing and/or getting hungry.
Okay, technically I don’t know that it’s the same rat. They don’t wear nametags and it’s not like there’s a shortage. But I can dream. Phase 3 complete.