High drama in the backyard. I was sitting at the computer fiddling when suddenly Chloe started barking and growling frantically, and Molly ran out to join her. I could hear the large rustling sound of dogs jumping onto plant life as they threw themselves on my clematis vine, trying to get whatever it was. So I ran out to collar them and bring them inside and was just in time to see a cat running away on the carport roof that abuts my yard, then Chloe ran in the other direction towards a hole in the wall of my building. This hole came about when my landlord had to put in another spigot for my yard, and didn't fill in the hole or re-plaster it. As soon as Chloe ran to that spot I knew what was up.
You see, the cat was chasing the rat, and the dog ran after the cat. Sounds like a nursery rhyme. Let me explain. Lately I have come to realize that there is a large rodent, a rat, in fact, living in my backyard. Well, he actually lives in the aforementioned hole in the wall. My backyard is merely his hunting ground. I have learned that this rat has a wide and varied appetite. He loved my lemon balm plant, ate all the seed heads on my chives and ate my columbine plants till they were only nubs. He also eats the snails, which is not a bad thing to a gardener, and I hope he hasn't eaten the newts that live under some of my potted plants, but I fear that he has.
I'm sure my dogs know he lives here, but unless he is in their faces they act like they're not aware he exists. I, on the other hand, am very aware he exists. My patio door is closed most of the time now, especially at night, for I know he's a nocturnal little guy and seems to be most active then. When I go outside even later in the afternoon I'm looking all around me just in case he should dash across my feet. I plan to do something about him soon, I just haven't yet. I actually went to the hardware store last weekend to see what they had in the "no kill" line of traps, because that's what I've decided I want, but they didn't have anything big enough. Apparently people who would prefer not to kill a cute little mouse have no such scruples when it comes to rats. Zapping them with as much as it takes seems to be the norm there. And really, why have I decided to do something different?
Update: Didn't finish my cogitating on that one but things came to a head a few months ago. I woke up in the middle of the night hearing a scratching, scrabbling sound. I thought it was one of the dogs, scratching on the carpet like they sometimes do. I uttered a "Chloe, stop!" in a stern voice but the scritching, scratching noise didn't stop. I then turned on the light and Chloe was in her spot at the end of the bed, quite innocent, but the noise was still there. Of course I knew right away it was the rat. It's hole in the wall not surprisingly let it get in between the walls, where it could scratch to it's hearts content. I have to say my reaction was not "Poor Rat" but "Ugh!" and I got up and ran around the apartment in a panic trying to see if there were any holes it could get through to come inside the apartment. There were--places where the plastic covers for electrical outlets had come loose. I put something in front of them, hoping that would at least be a little deterrent if the rat got adventurous, and I went back to bed.
The very next morning I was off to the hardware store to get any kind of trap I could afford, trying not to care if it was a Final Solution for the rat or not. I couldn't have it scratching and scrabbling between my walls, I just couldn't. I set the traps that very night and baited them with peanut butter, a rat favorite, I was told.
The rest of the story is rather messy and I don't care to go into details. I will say this: the rat was caught, the trap didn't kill him, I called my landlord over to deal with the poor live rat in the trap, foisting my dirty work onto someone else. Yeah and believe it or not, I felt guilty. I'm a bleeding heart, but you already knew that. It was a dirty, disease carrying rat, it could have infected my dogs with god knows what (Bubonic plague?) and I didn't like having it killed. So there, hah, as my sister would say. It was a creature, trying to survive, is what it was. I don't see how any wild creature survives in this world. You find food, or you don't. You eat, or you starve. You live, or you die. Mostly the latter.
I saw a coyote once in the school yard where I sometimes take the dogs to run. This is in the middle of the city, with no wild places nearby. I saw it only after I had let the girls off their leads, and once they saw it, I could scream all I wanted to, they wouldn't come to me till they had checked it out. I was terrified it would kill them, but now I realize it probably didn't like the odds: broad daylight, two dogs and one crazy screaming human. The girls ran after it, curious to see what this creature was, especially Molly. Chloe just followed Molly. And as this creature loped across the field--there was something about that loping. There was no way you could ever think it was anything but a wild creature. That steady, unhurried lope showed a creature with its own purposes. And those purposes had nothing to do with anything human. It was self-contained, it had it's own existence. Someone told me that in a Southeast Asian Buddhist country, I forget which one, that's how they treat dogs. If one impinges upon human life--say it enters a human dwelling--it is simply regarded as another creature, certainly not a pet, and is free to live or starve as it can, like the coyote or the rat.
So--"my" rat was a living creature. It wasn't a Disney cartoon rat with a sneer on its face. It was a rat that had delicate but unexpectedly large ears, so large that for a moment I wondered if it was a rabbit and not a rat. Whether I could/would have done anything differently or not, I need to know the reality of what I did.
That's it really. Oh, and if you want to read a really good bleeding heart poem, find Roethke's, The Meadow Mouse.