Besieged by a rat !

Pic courtesy animalpicturesarchive.com

No, I do not mean the political scenario in the state, including the bundh on Saturday, though that too could qualify. This post is not about those kind of rats. It is about the real thing, our friend Rattus rattus, or the common black rat. Last week, one got into our house.

We have wire meshes on all our doors and windows to keep out the mosquitoes, but allow air circulation. They couldn't keep the rat out, however. There is a bathroom just outside the kitchen. The Saturday before last, we awoke to see a (rat-sized) hole in the mesh on the bathroom window. This bathroom is left open every night. Why? I have no idea. It's just one on those things we do.

As soon as we saw that hole, we knew that we had an intruder. Or at the very least, we had had one in the night, and hopefully he had left. A thorough search of the house yielded no sign of him. This was the stuff of nightmares for me. Just imagine all those books lying in piles in shelves and on the floor in every room, on all possible surfaces, just waiting to be daintily nibbled by a rodent! Imagine all the possible diseases we could get by using surfaces he had walked on, and god alone knows done what else. The very possibilities had us collectively pulling our hair out.

We hoped that the rat had left the way he had come in. But I was taking no chances. I immediately made sure that at least we did not leave any food or water out in the open. I kept the door of the bathroom firmly shut all week, using the other bathroom till the rat was caught. And I invested immediately in a rat trap. The kind which lures them with a bait and traps them without any injury.

So. We set up the trap with a piece of roti (Indian bread), put it in the bathroom to trap the rat if it came back, and kept the door shut. For the whole day, there was no sign of him. The next day, Sunday,  Amma, my household help, suddenly gave a little scream whilst she was sweeping in the kitchen. She had seen the rat just behind the fridge, and no amount of  banging around it would bring it out. We came out of the kitchen, shut the door, and I called the husband. What happened then, and later in the day, was nothing short of high drama.

He put on shoes to protect his feet, took a big bamboo stick we had at home, opened the bathroom door, placed the open rat trap with the bait at the bathroom door (it is right outside the kitchen door), barricaded the small passage leading out to the dining room, and opened the kitchen door. The idea was to drive the rat out of the kitchen, so that he takes the route of least resistance into the bathroom, where we had a trap waiting for him.

We happened next was so quick that I barely realised it. The husband moved the fridge slightly ahead, to allow for manoeuvering. There we were, just outside, watching for the rat. Amma and I were standing there, wringing our hands, Amma at the ready with a broom if needed. A was perched on top of the dining table, the better to see what happened. Here was an adventure. The husband kept admonishing me to keep away, and more importantly, to keep A away. He put the stick behind the fridge, and before we knew it, the rat had run out of the kitchen, and not into the waiting trap in the bathroom, but the bedroom on the other side. I have never moved as quickly as I did then, first jumping out of the way of the advancing rat, A jumping up and down on the table (good thing it is made of good, solid wood!), and then to quickly close the door of the bedroom.

Here was a new set of worries. The door to the balcony off the bedroom was closed, as was the door to the bathroom attached to it. But the bed was unmade, with sheets and blankets all lying higgeldy piggeldy, with the mosquito net still up. There were piles of books along the wall, and suitcases still piled up in the corner next to the wardrobe, not yet put away after our vacation. The rat could not escape from the bedroom, but it was still able to hide among all that, making things more difficult. 

So now we removed the barricades, which had not deterred the rat from sprinting over them, the husband picked up the rat trap with its bait, gingerly opened the door of the bedroom, placed the trap inside and quickly closed the door. We were hoping for a quick catch, now that the trap and the rat were in the same room.

But rats are canny creatures, and this one turned out to be a smart one. He was not going to come out of his hiding place, no siree, not after being frightened out of its skin by a stick wielding human like that. We waited all day for the loud BANG which would indicate that we had the intruder apprehended, but there wasn't any. All day, A spoke about nothing but the rat, and whether it was frightened, and what would happen if we don't catch it. Also why we were using the trap, and why not the ratkill (rat poison) that is seen in advertisements? How does a trap work? How the rat is just trapped but not injured by the trap we had.

Finally in the evening we decided to take matters in hand again, or else suffer sleeping in the hall. We opened the door, and there was the trap, still open. No peep from the critter. We closed the kitchen door, and opened the bathroom door, so that it might run out, if not caught. The husband again donned the shoes, and armed with the stick, tiptoed into the bedroom. Again, there were fascinated onlookers- me standing just outside, keeping a sharp lookout for any movement, and A on her perch on the table, jumping up and down in excitement, telling her father repeatedly to be careful, me trying to hush her up.

The husband carefully pulled the piles of books and suitcases away from the wall, watching for any signs of life. Nothing. He then took the trap to the corner on the far side of the wardrobe, and approached its back from the side of the door with the stick. I was just outside the door, peeping in intently, for any sign of the rat. Suddenly, I saw it moving down the back of the wardrobe and running in the direction of the trap. I pointed quickly, "there, it's gone there!" The husband ran quickly to that side, but the rat was not to be seen. He tapped on the trap to close it, just in case. There was no sound from inside, and we could not see inside, as it was not a mesh trap. Slowly, to check, the husband opened it just a crack, and A screamed from outside. The rat had streaked as quick as lightening out of the trap, out of the bedroom, into the bathroom and out of the hole in the mesh. Slam! The bathroom door was closed, and the rest of the house was now rat-free.

I tidied up the bedroom. We took the trap, opened the bathroom door gingerly, and placed it inside. Now all we had to do was to wait for it to be trapped, keeping the door closed till it was. The rat had taken the trouble to cut a hole in the mesh, so it was sure to try its luck again, once it was dark and all the noisy, scary, stick wielding humans had gone away.

We had spooked the rat, however, and there was no sign of him for the whole week. Every morning, we would open the bathroom door very hopefully, after taking the precaution of tapping on the door, so that it would back off from the door if it was free in there, and not try to run out the door. Nothing. But there very distinct signs of his having visited us: droppings on the bathroom floor. Obviously he did not think much of the bait offered him.

Finally, on Saturday, Amma told me that the roti placed inside had fallen to bits. So we decided to place a fresh bait inside. Amma asked me if I had cucumber or fresh coriander inside. In her experience, rats were partial to these. So we rolled up a bunch of fresh coriander in a slice of bread and put it inside.

Sure enough, that proved irresistable. We were woken up in the middle of the night by a loud BANG! We listened at the door, and there it was. The sound of the rat, now realising that it was trapped, scrambling around in the box, trying to escape.

To his credit, the husband, who is not as much an animal lover as to agree to keep pets, is enough of a softie not to let the poor critter be trapped all night. At 1am, he took the trapped animal, drove many kilometers into the outskirts, away from any houses etc., released the intruder and came back. I hope he doesn't return.

P.S. : The hole in he mesh has been stoppered with a thick role of newspaper, and now I have to look around for someone who will agree to make just one mesh for us.


Wrapping up the Flashback Re-reading Challenge- ANIMALS OF FARTHING WOOD

flashback challenge

Remember the book re-reading challenge I had participated in? Although the challenge began in January 2010, I joined in quite late, in August, as I discovered it then, and couldn't pass it up. I had posted quite an optimistic list of books to re-read, but have finally settled on doing the bookworm challenge-as I had said I might end up doing. The bookworm challenge required me to re-read at least one book from each of these categories-

1. Re-read a favorite book from your childhood
2. Re-read a book read in high school : Read and reviewed "A FLIGHT OF PIGEONS" by Ruskin bond here.
3. Re-read a book you loved as an adult : Read and reviewed "TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD" by Harper Lee here.

Here is the third book to be read and reviewed for this challenge.

Pic courtesy flipkart 

THE ANIMALS OF FARTHING WOOD
Written by Colin Dann
Illustrated by Jaqueline Tettmar
Published by Egmont books UK
Ages: 9+

Farthing Wood is home to a menagerie of animals for a long time now, and they have been here for generations. Now, however, their home is being endangered by encroachments by humans. The whole heath is being dug up to build new buildings, the pond in filled up to reclaim the land, and it is no longer safe. At the end of their tether, they decide to move to White Deer Park, a nature reserve found by Toad quite unexpectedly. He had been taken away by some human children out on a nature expedition,  but had escaped and returned by the homing instinct.

The motley group, led by Fox and Badger, and including Toad ( he alone knows the way), Mole (who has to depend upon the faster animals to carry him), Hare and his mate, Pheasant, rabbits, voles, mice, hedgehogs, Adder ( who, along with Weasel, is looked upon by suspicion by the herbivores), Weasel, and Tawny Owl and Kestrel, who lead from the air, scouting out the territory ahead in case of a doubt as to safety.

The group takes an Oath of Mutual Protection, wherein all stronger animals are to protect the weaker ones, with some leading and some bringing up the rear, so that no animal is left behing or attacked by any outsiders. Adder and Weasel are most likely to break this Oath, or so it is supposed, so everyone is a bit more vigilant about their presence. But even they rise to the occasion when required.

It is a quest, an adventure, with obtacles like marshy land, a wildfire (triggered by the cigarette stub of a human being), a farmer out to vindicate the animal who has been stealing his chickens for many weeks now (obviously not our gang!), a river in torrential flow, babies being born to the mice and voles enroute, so that they have to leave the party, only to be butchered by a 'Butcher bird' (a Red-backed Shrike, a migratory visitor to Britain, considered extinct there since 1970, but found again on Dartmoor in 2010), a fox hunt, a pesticide laced field, a busy six-lane motorway and a town, before they can reach their destination. As is expected, there are a few deaths along the way, with the leaders doing their best to protect the rest.

At one point, while saving the rabbits while crossing the river, Fox is carried away, and, after a long hunt for him, considered dead. Leaderless for the while, the animals rally around Badger and Tawny Owl, in an uneasy joint leadership, and continue on their way. Joyfully, they are joined by Fox after many days, with an addition to their group, a Vixen who has helped him and accepted to be his mate.

One fine day, they finally reach the haven they are looking out for, and settle very well into White Deer Park, slowly dispersing and assimilating into the life there. But the travails they have been through together bonds them, and there are sequels that I would love to get my hands on.

I had read this book both in an abridged version as a very small child, and in the original when older. I had loved the sense of adventure it held for me then, and was a gripping, totally un-put-downable read. I was a bit aware of the message regarding conservation then, but not unduly troubled by it. I was a city born-and-bred creature, and not very much in tune with animal habitats and such. All that was just something we learnt about at school, and the seriousness of it was not really realised then.

I read it now as a part of the re-reading challenge, and it proved to be e very bit as enthralling as it did then. I was, however, better educated in the POVof the animals, and it made so much more sense to me. It made equal sense to my animal-loving daughter, whom I read the whole book aloud to. A has encountered a lot of environment consciousness and conservation at the wonderful school that she goes to, soon to move to a location out of town, in the midst of nature. Hopefully it is being built with minimal damage to the surrounding ecosystem!

I am also more aware of the dangers to wildlife due to roads etc. going through their habitat. When in the US and UK, we have often come across dead rabbits and such daring to cross these roads. Once we almost ran over one, and I can still remember the shriek of tyres with which we stopped just short of the animal streaking across.

There are so many stories in the newspapers too- of snakes, monkeys, etc. being found in homes, leopards found in housing complexes adjoining National Parks,  elephants on the rampage in villages, etc. The recent death of seven elephants by a speeding train  is a case in point proving that human beings have not yet realised their responsibility towards animals, who should be protected if humans MUST go through their territory.

A wonderful read. Colin Dann has created a work of art with wonderful characterisation, an adventure, a wonderful example of what can be achieved as a team, with a realisation that often a team is only as storng as its weakest link. With a message of conservation.

James Herriot books for children

I discovered James Herriot a long time ago. His books are not really for young children, but can be easily read and appreciated by older children, probably 13+ ones. With typically gentle and wry British humour, Herriot, whose real life name as a vet in Yorkshire, was James Alfred Wight, brings to us the life in typical Yorkshire villages. A few years back, during our stay in the UK, a visit to Thirsk, the village in Yorkshire in which he lived and practised, was a not-to-be-missed-opportunity. Herriot has immortalised this village as Darrowby in his books. We realised how powerfully he had potrayed the sprawling Yorkshire moors (also a setting for another well loved classic- Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte.) and the life of the locals, complete with their dialect- as we could identify it immediately, essentially unchanged for the many years since the books had been written.

So when I found these picture books by him a few years back, I grabbed them immediately. Here was my opportunity to introduce this wonderful writer to A, then all of 6 yrs old. All of them have complete, single stories suitable for the age group of 4-8 years. Published by St Martin's Press.

Pic courtesy goodreads.com

THE CHRISTMAS DAY KITTEN
A stray cat regularly visits Mrs Pickering's house, where James Herriot regularly goes to check on her three Basset hounds. The cat, a timid tabby named Debbie by Mrs Pickering, creeps in a few times each week, eats the food given to her, spends some time in the warmth of the sitting room in front of the fireplace, and then and goes away. No-one knows where she lives.

On Christmas day, a dying Debbie comes to Mrs Pickering's house with her precious cargo- her kitten. She leaves it in the care of the only place where she has known warmth and love. How this Christmas Day kitten, named Buster by Mrs Pickering, makes it his home is for the reader to find out.

A lovely story that touches a child's heart. With all the warmth associated with Christmas.

Pic courtesy goodreads.com

THE MARKET SQUARE DOG
One Market Day, James Herriot notices an unknown dog, obviously a stray, begging at the various stalls for food. The dog has "two friendly brown eyes ... in a wonderfully attractive face", a friendly wag of his tail for Herriot when spoken to, but would not be caught.

One day, the local police constable, Phelps, comes to Herriot's surgery with an injured animal- the Market Square dog, who had been found knocked down by the roadside, just outside the town. The vet does all he can for the dog, visiting him at the public kennels as he heals. Over the next few weeks, people come for many of the other dogs, but not for our stray.

What happens next? Does he find a home? Who are the lucky ones who get this very lovable and friendly stray as their pet? Read to find out.



Pic courtesy fantasticfiction.co.uk


OSCAR, CAT-ABOUT-TOWN
The Herriots adopt a stray cat brought to them in a very weak condition. They nurse him back to health, and name him Oscar.

Now Oscar proves himself to be a very sociable cat. He is missing one day, and after a lot of searching, they find him with the judges at a Women's Institute hat making competition! Over the next few months, he goes missing many times, but the Herriots know that they would find him at some social do, including, among other things, a soccer match at the local school and a rummage sale at the Town Hall.

"Now we know," said Helen.
I nodded. "Yes, when he disappears, he isn't running away at all. He's just visiting. He likes getting along, he loves people, especially in groups, and he is interested in what they do. He's a natural mixer."
Helen looked down at our cat. "Of course, that's it ... he's a socialite!"
"A cat-about-town!"

Pic courtesy fantasticfiction.co.uk

BLOSSOM COMES HOME
Blossom is an old, placid cow belonging to Farmer Dakin. She has been a good milk-cow for more than twelve years. But Dakin is a poor farmer, and cannot afford to keep a cow that is not productive, and he need the space in the stall for a younger cow. So, he does what all poor farmers do. Sells her very regretfully to a knacker on market day.

So what does the placid Blossom do? How does she come back home, where the farmer knows she truly belongs?

Here Herriot has potrayed the difficult decisions with which these poor farmers, deeply attached to their animals, are faced with. A wonderful book.

Pic courtesy amazon.com

BONNY'S BIG DAY
Bonny and Dolly are 20 year old workhorses belonging to a taciturn farmer, Mr Skipton. Although they can no longer work for him, he keeps them "down by the river", where he goes at least once every day, with a pitchforkful of freash hay, a steep climb for the old man. But he loves them, and although he has "no time for pets an' such", the horses are like pets to him.

So when the time comes for the Darrowby Pet Fair Show, Herriot suggests that Mr Skipton enter his horse, Bonny. An idea that the gruff old weatherbeaten farmer scoffs at.

What happens next stands testimony to these men's love of their animals. And the value they place by them.

There are a few more books in these series, which I would love to get my hands on. Moses the Kitten,  Smudge, the Little Lost Lamb , Only One Woof, are some of these.

All these stories by James Herriot carry his trademark warmth and his love for the animals, the bleak Yorkshire moors, and the people who live by this land. The distinct personalities of the animals and the people, revealed through the flow of the stories, makes for richly layered stories.

Although some of them had a note of sadness to the tale, the resolution to a happy ending made them extremely enjoyable. Leading A to read and re-read them many times on her own after we had been through the read-aloud sessions, many times over. She loves animals, and one of her dreams is to own a farm with lots of animals in it when she grows up, as we do not believe in having an animal living in an apartment, and so discourage her from having pets. Imagine having to stay cooped up in a place, from where you can go out only on a leash. Even if one was loved and provided with every comfort.

The illustrations by Ruth Brown are full page, often spilling over onto the adjacent page, making these books perfect picture books inspite of the extensive text. A biography says this about her work-  "Known for her delicate use of watercolors, her particular love of cats, and her realistic and atmospheric representations of rural life, she has been particularly praised for her richly textured and colored artwork." Making her the perfect choice for a picture book by James Herriot.

Crossposted at Saffrontree.