As I was digging along the fence line, I turned up what looked like a little toy pig. Figuring that it was some kind of throw away from the neighbor kids, I reached down to pick it up when holy freakin' ratones I realized the damn thing was breathing. This was no plastic play thing; this was a neon pink, fresh from the womb, eyes still sealed shut, bona fide rat baby. Ew! Make that a double ew!
I actually contemplated not killing the darn thing. Watching its tiny blushed body wriggling and its mouth gasping as if searching for its momma's teat, the creature looked like a cross between a piglet and one of those aborted fetuses that you see on posters carried outside abortion clinics, gruesome yet identifiably a life form. I then reminded myself that this innocent was going to turn into full grown, disgusting vermin. I charged off to grab a bucket of water.
Killing is never pleasant for me, regardless of the victim (except for fleas; I have a fetish for catching them and popping their heads off with my nails). But this rat problem needs to end. I'm sick of those fat, hairy toadies sneaking into the chicken coop or nibbling every damn apple on the tree. Why can't they eat the ones on the ground? It's put a serious damper on my pie baking this summer. So off with their heads! Not really. I wouldn't be able to take the blood.
To the bucket it went. I knew there were probably more in that invisible burrow, so I dug a bit deeper and found a couple more who were equally as wretched looking as the first. As I stooped to scoop up the last one, I heard a terrible squeal that reminded me of the voice of the scientist in The Fly crying "Help me!" after he had swapped his body with the bug. So much for no blood. I blame it on the shovel.
You can call me a baby murderer, just don't call PETA. Ugh.
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Tom recently found a nest of baby rats in our wood pile. He killed them with the 2x4 he had picked up that exposed them. Then of course he throws them on the patio where Squeek insisted on making sure they were dead. UGH. That dog is OBSESSED with all things rodents.
ReplyDeleteCan I borrow your dog? Mr Tinks only likes to bark at the burrow and chew on the tails of the already dead. He's no help at all.
ReplyDeleteShe's only killed 2 or 3 in the 4 years I've had her. Not exactly efficient. LOL I think she lacks patience to wait and just tries to use speed and brute force. It doesn't work so well for her. But she is good at telling you where they are hiding.
ReplyDeleteI wish I could catch the vermin that are eating my tomatoes. Two plants in containers and I haven't been able to harvest a single fruit thus far. It makes me want to kill something!
ReplyDeleteJust yesterday I came face to face with a fat, sassy little mouse in our garden shed. He has feasted on chicken feed, he has nested under the floor, he has chewed a hole in the wall, and he has laughed at every trap I've set. I'm ready to declare war.
ReplyDeleteYou're a more gutsy woman than me. I tend to do my rodent killing from afar with poison but whichever way, it's not pleasant. Hate to do the necessary though it must be done.
ReplyDeleteLaura
It had to be done though. Ick. My grandmother would've drowned them in whiskey and then... well, it's whiskey. A folk cure, I'm told. Not that I'll test it.
ReplyDelete@ cyndi - omg, ew! what country is that folk cure from?
ReplyDeleteUgh, you are braver than I am. I could not have done what you did. Eww, and ewww.
ReplyDeleteI hate it when I have to kill something, but when the homestead is under attack, you gotta do it.
ReplyDeleteMan, I got the chills just reading how you reached down and grabbed a rat baby.
oh gawd, that whiskey thing. I have no kindness for rats. I had a Norwegian infestation one summer. They killed a young duck, stole my fruit, ate the bottom off of my bike bags...it was the summer of a pellet rifle, a rat terrier, and poison. The poison worked best.
ReplyDeleteWe've had similar drama with squirrels this year...my husband and I are animal loving vegetarians but between all the half eaten tomatoes and squash I keep finding and the chicken food thievery...we have armed ourselves with a pellet gun in the need to protect our homestead.
ReplyDeletei love animals, but i hate thieves. totally understand your dip into the dark side ana.
ReplyDelete