Rats!

Is an expletive I used occasionally when things weren’t going the way I liked and the use of other four-letter words just wasn’t me.  But now the word evokes a sense of invasion and torment.

Yes, I’ve seen rats along the shoreline, and over the decades the Beacon has reported neighborhoods plagued by the rodents and city efforts to meet them head on, setting out poison and traps. Residents are advised to restrict or eliminate feeding the birds and make sure not to leave out food.  Careful disposal of garbage is also recommended.

We’ve had resident mice. They can be pesky and bold.

They’ve seen them scurry across the kitchen floor when we’ve flicked on the light in the early morning hours.  They’ve made their presence known. We’ve found sunflower seed shells in one of the counter drawers before storing all bird seed in metal containers.  The top of a bran muffin Carol left out for my breakfast showed signs of being nibbled.

I set out traps slathered with peanut butter, careful not to set them off as they’re gingerly slid into corners where the fridge meets the wall or next to the microwave. Understandably, Carol is fearful of having them snap prematurely and catch a finger so I’ll place the traps on cardboard that can be carried and positioned.

A few of the critters have been dispatched, however, the presence of unwanted co-inhabitants persists. There were scrabbling sounds from the chimney for the stove, a bite out of a raw sweet potato in a bowl on the kitchen table and droppings in the sink – were the invaders looking for a drink?

We set out rat traps, a giant version of the mouse trap with enough tension in the spring to inflict serious injury.  Would they wake us up when triggered late at night?  No, in the morning the traps hadn’t been sprung, but they were licked clean of peanut butter. Had mice enjoyed the treat or something larger?

We ruled out poison, fearing Farrah would get into it. And we isolated the kitchen with a gate whenever we set traps.

 We talked to friends. A couple of weeks ago Carol’s friend Cheryl and her husband arrived with two rat traps wrapped with packing tape – sticky side out – which had worked for them. They were placed in the cellar, but as of yet remain untouched.  With the help of another friend, appliances were pulled away from walls and all possible entries plugged. Holes along the foundation exterior that might allow entry were also filled.

The battle continues. In desperation, Carol got a Havahart trap. We armed it with a slice of bread heavily coated with peanut butter. Nothing, although it looked like some of the spread was gone.

Then came there was the discovery of the nibbled Himalayan Dog Chew, the hardened sticks of cheese that Farrah loves. Did that explain the banging noises – dropped chews – Carol heard during early morning vigils?

Carol bought another kind of trap that looks like a giant snapping jaw. The bait is inserted from the bottom. It worked. Either we had caught a large mouse or mid-sized rat. It was a victory. We had the upper hand, or so we thought.

The noise in the walls resumed and then the microwave suddenly stopped. We checked circuit breakers. The outlet was dead. An electrician traced the problem to “chewed wires” in the wall. He restored power, but that lasted hardly a day.

The electrician’s advice: call an exterminator.

What more can I say but “rats?”