April 2, 2010


An unfortunate part of living in the country is rats. (I know there are rats in the city, but I never saw or hear them when we lived in town.) I'm not squeemish about much - mice are fine, I can pick up a snake or frog, spiders (if out side and not in my house) are great, cockroaches do bug me fortunatly we don't have those here. But rats! I really don't like rats. Disease ridden, beady little eyes, nasty worm tail, jagged teeth - yuck! (The hairs on the back of my neck are standing up while I type this.)

Jeremy just came up from feeding the animals and said "It's lucky I fed them today, not you. You won't believe what I just dealt with." My first thought was poop - 50% of the 'you won't believe this ...' are about pig, sheep or chicken poop. Not this time. He continued, "I was grabbing the chicken scratch. Between the container and the large gate door." (We keep feed in large garbage cans and against the gate to the pig pen.) "Was the biggest rat I've seen here. It was about 10 inches long, not counting the tail and it was fat - like half the size of Rosa." (Rosa is our fat cat - see picture.) "It was dead, so I got the shovel to get rid of it. I'd guess it weighed about 7 lbs." That is just disgusting! So glad I didn't do the afternoon feeding today!!

The other rat story is less icky. Eric and Lola had a dog named Cassy. She was old and she considered our yard her's. She was sweet, so it was fine that she hung out with us. One day I was out in the yard. I had just moved some compost on to the garden so the fencing across the compost bin was open (see picture to right of compost bin after it was emptied this spring.) Rats love the compost and I'm OK with that since it is far from the house and I usually don't see or here the rats. Anyway, I turned around and Cassy was head first in the compost, up to her shoulders, trying to get the rats. Her tail was wagging. Cassy, being old, was deaf so I had to walk up to her to get her attention. She backed out and turned towards me - she was actually smiling through the rotten food, hay and poop. She was covered in stink and goo, tail still wagging away. I had to take her up to Lola. I felt so bad "here's you dog, she needs a bath"

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