Bog Myrtle & Peat

Having declared war on the insurgent rat population on the Chayne, I found fresh new evidence of the rats in my garden shortly before bed last night. What appeared to be a rabbit was sitting in the black grouse enclosure – on closer inpection, it was a cracking great big rat feeding on grower pellets out of the blackcock’s little hopper. Of all the varied and numerous bird species I keep, the blackcock is the only one who needs a constant supply of food. I can’t toss pellets in for him because, being blind, he’d never find them, so he has a permanent hopper so he can feed ad lib from it. It’s hardly surprising that the rats should clock this as a reliable source of feed, but the blackcock’s blindness could also be his achilles’ heel. Rats kill all sorts of birds as and when they get the chance, and although I’ve never heard of them killing a bird as big as a blackcock, they might be pursuaded to try their luck if they realised that he can’t really defend himself.

In retaliation, I set a cage trap for the rat, more as a gesture than any serious move towards catching it. I was amazed to find this morning that I had actually got him, and I spent a few moments examining him at close hand – a rare opportunity to get a close look at what must be the most unpopular animal in the world. His pudgy little hands clasped at the mesh and he flailed his mottled lizard-like tail up and down on the galvanised treadle plate which had betrayed him. There was something very engaging about those bulgy little black eyes which seemed to sit proud of their sockets, giving him a permanent expression of frenzied amazement. My heart almost softened, but then I remembered that a rat like this would kill all the grey partridges I have with hardly even a backwards glance.

The worst thing about predatory rats is that the only part of them that has evolved to kill is their brain – their little fists aren’t sharp, strong or lethal, and while their yellow teeth are thoroughly nasty implements, they are not designed for killing. Birds I have found which have been killed by rats look like they have exploded. In their frenzy, the sweaty little palms grasp and tear living flesh to pieces without the decisive bite or crushing blow of an animal which was designed to kill. In this light, I must admit that it was no great hardship sending the caged rat upstairs (or downstairs – it’s not for me to decide…)

Meanwhile, up by the partridge pen, one of my MK.4 traps showed fruit with an even mightier rat clasped firmly in its jaws. I know that trapping is a far more difficult, time consuming and unreliable method of controlling rats than the use of poison, but it’s certainly very satisfying to come face to face with the object of your derision, rather than filling it up with a bellyful of chemicals to die an invisible death.