Now, like most of you know from my previous blog, we bought a
little green farmhouse. Along with the house we bought a mouse problem and were
soon to find out, a rat problem was well.
Before I get started I want to share an experience the
Routleys are all fond of. A few years ago when we lived in Squamish, we
baby-sat a friend’s pet rat, Perseus. He was a great little pet, we left his
cage open and he would come and go as he pleased. He was litter trained and had
great manners. He would even come out and sit on our laps, just like a cat.
Smart little fellow. This experience started our affinity to rats.
As you read on, you may think us heartless but a wild rat is
a completely different beast.
We found this kind of humorous but even more so was the
little area Mr. Mouse had settled. The granola bars were on top of our
booties and outdoor riding gear and within there hid Mr. Mouse, nestled under
a booty. It was a cozy little joint if I do say so myself. He even gathered some lint from the washing room to make himself more comfortable. It was
hilarious! The plush booties weren’t enough for this little guy?! Comfort must
be a top priority for mice.
We had read that mice nest as close to their
food source as possible. I think Mr. Mouse lucked out on that location.
Now mice, as destructive as they can be, are by no means scary.
To some I suppose but not me. I grew up with mice. We would find a trophy mouse
head from one of our cats or there would be a mouse crawling up our living room
curtains to escape that cruel outcome. Wait, come to think of it, my mom was afraid
of mice. Just like in the movies, she would be the one on the chair in the
corner screaming something along the lines of “a mouse! (insert incoherent
jibber/screeching) over there!” It’s hard to believe that a women who grew up
watching pythons eat her chickens, could be so afraid of mice. I guess mice can
be terrifying? I should get to the
point. What I’m trying to say is that mice are nothing, when you’re comparing
them to rats. Now before I go into details about our rat issue, we had been
doing some research. The differences between rats and mice; where the live, how
to catch them etc. And we discovered they are quite different. Mice are rather
curious (they check out new things, like traps) and rats are very cautious (they avoid new things aka. trap dodgers.) Rats and mice will not occupy the same area and the
scent of a rat will repel mice and actually stop their reproductive nature,
apparently. Reading through these facts we were somewhat relieved but couldn’t
shake the thought that we might have both mice and rats under one roof.
After a couple of nights, sleeping in the house, we started
to hear grinding and biting noises in our closet.
The sounds were NOT faint little scratches. I couldn’t sleep. It was like
something was building a bloody village in our closet!
We set up mousetraps all
over the house, hoping it was in fact a mouse. We caught 2 mice prior so it was a distinct possibility, but after the
“mouse” had flipped 7 traps, we were at a loss. As we researched more, we realized that this was a smart and
“cautious” rodent. We were worried. A rat infestation! Just imagine. The house
was hardly big enough for us!
We prepared for the worst and bought rattraps. And have you
ever seen one of those things? They’re humongous. Just setting them up is
dangerous, they could easily break multiple bones in your hand.
Despite our efforts, the rattraps never actually trapped a
rat. Now, I wasn’t home to experience the next set of events but I have first
hand knowledge.
Will and his parents were busy renovating and the like, when
they heard a trap go off in our stairwell. Will slowly opened the door to the
stairs and there it was, the big-noisy-ass-rat, starring up at him! He assumed
Mr. Rat must have flipped a mousetrap and was stunned because it just kept
starring, in what must have been shock. Will went with his gut instinct and bent
down to pick-up the 2x4 chunk of wood on the floor. Not truly thinking he could
hit the rat, WHAMO! He nailed it! The rat sort of ran/fell down the stairs to
his feet and he wacked it again.
One dead rat.
At least it was quick and relatively pain free. Will assured
me Mr. Rat was dead on the first whack but that it was a reaction to hit him
again. Will’s mom watched the entire show and was more than slightly
traumatized. I’m glad I wasn’t there to see it.
But, I’m also glad I no longer have to worry about a giant
rat crawling out from under my closet door and biting my nose off. Have you read
stories about rats in the trenches during WW1?
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