I am a great lover of rats in literature. Templeton in Charlotte’s Web was one of my first introductions to the idea of a complex character. And how could you not love the rat in Ratatouille (though my kids were grossed out by him).
There was Ratty in The Wind in the Willows, Cluny the Scourge in Redwall…the list goes on. Rats are apparently smart and clean. They’re social and apparently mate like maniacs (a litter of up to 10 pups every three weeks). When viewed from certain angles, from a distance, they are almost endearing.
In literature, they tend to be smart, and ultimately good-hearted. In most cases they are misunderstood. I would be willing to embrace them in all their rat-ness, especially this year, the Year of the Rat (ironically with all the plague associations rats inspire) if we were not inundated by them. At least I think.
There is definitely a den next to our house (I see his/her face popping through the hole occasionally) and I suspect the half dozen similar holes around our barns are also not-so-subtle entryways. Why now? Granted, they tend to be under bird feeders, but the bird feeders have been there for ten years.
Our infestations tend to come in waves. A few years ago, there were skunks everywhere. An entire skunk family came out one evening to watch us play badminton. One skunk ambled towards us, with seemingly no malice (or rabies), and watched us flee into the house. The groundhogs are always bad, but at their peak last year. Same with the red squirrels, who mostly seem to have decamped. It makes me wonder where they go. Is our place like a vacation rental, someplace to spend a season before moving on? In any case, I hope the rats go soon.
Kate Staples 