As discussed in the spring, we have a neighbourhood garden rat feeding off the bounty of various well maintained compost piles. Don’t believe the “no meat, no pests” stuff – they are branching out into vegetarianism. Or rather we did have such a beast. Yesterday, the snap of the trap took him from us. It is a bit of a thing picking out one animal from the fairly robust mammalian world of a 43 year old suburb between two or three wild zones. I would have felt bad if a chipmunk were to be taken out as collateral damage. And I am not particularly anti-rat as they are only squirrels with bad PR. But it was in the shed too much. My shed.
Anyway, a thin coat of peanut butter all over the snappy trap was the thing. The lump did not work. You have to keep shifting the tactics. In the past rats have met their maker via a sticky trap and bucket laced with baking soda into which vinegar was then poured or, once, a hockey stick. A Mario Lemieux model as I recall. This one’s life’s path was far more humane in its conclusion. He joins a host of mousies as well as one night-jumping deer and a rather fat groundhog that almost broke an axle all waiting for me at the pearly gates where they will no doubt get me.