Hello and Welcome back, its been a while..
Without beating around the bush, lets get straight into the crux of this month’s matters: ratatouille. EEKKs.. not cute, bluish-hued, Remy from the Disney classic. I mean more hardcore, real rats!
Not wishing to feel left out by our urban cousins..
**insert title of very interesting article about the positive correlation between rising urban rat populations and increasing length of UK’s lockdown in months **
.. it seems our rural rat population has seen more light of day in these last few weeks than in the whole enigmatic empire of Chicken Corner all together. Now readers, as loyal companions throughout this reign, you’ll be well aware of current affairs and by this I mean of course the rat residing under the duck house (and that’s just one!).. It lazily moves across dried, mud-cracked terrain and squeezes through panel dividers for opportunistic surveying of next-door’s feed container. Luckily the occupants of this enclosure always finish their food good and proper, just like their mothers taught them and I always like to think, strategically to ensure the fat rats grow no larger. To lower my vocabulary standards if a little, but arguably to retain the true essence of this creature for my readers, this rodent is ‘ratty’ looking!
I will admit, witnessing this in reality, I lost my cool ever so slightly – I know, I know, this could have been detrimental to my blossoming career as director and manager, but at the end of the day, I am only human. Rats just ir-‘rat’-ate me (pardon the pun.. my career has just been saved by that one though!) In accordance with the Telegraph’s sound points, rat poisons are not as effective as they once were. Saying this I therefor did take matters into my own hands, BUT, although slow – I would argue that rat poison has worked a treat.
Rat by rat, both myself and GJH reduced the rat population using a variety of methods, some more medieval-like than others.. WARNING: the next passage will cause to you conjure up distressing images from the start.
1. Rat under the duck shed was shot
2. Rat in the stable (actually turned out not to be the rat in the stable) so I will rename this. Rat in the food-store was bludgeoned to death with a broom handle.
3. Rat in the barn was mauled by a sheepdog.
4. (Much to my surprise) Second rat in barn was poisoned and found in ditch.
5. Rat in shed overdosed on rat poison, no body found but must be dead under the floorboards.
6. Rat in chick shed, again, must be dead under floorboards judging from the trail of poison leading to its rat-made hole in the wooden floor.
It is of course difficult to read the mounting death toll but the rats were striking back at times. Three of the young group of 18 pullets were killed. The latest was lying headless in the corner of the enclosure with its living cohort crowded in disbelief at the opposite end. These occurrences suddenly explained to plop sound Izzi and I had heard on separate occasions. Without clear sighting of this mysterious plopper in the drainage system, left of the stable where the chicks were (assumed) safe and sound. I’d thought it was a lizard, Izzi.. not sure what she said again.. yet well well! .. turns out ‘twas a rat! A hungry rat at that, a killer rat, a rat that had blood on its tiny paws.
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