Gervase Phinn: Year of the rat

As a child I felt that the picture of the endearing Ratty in The Wind in the Willows was way off the mark. Of all God's creatures, this fat, grey, sharp-toothed, disease-ridden scavenger is my least favourite and when my wife Christine came across a couple scratching around the compost heap it took a couple of brandies to calm her down. My dislike of rats, however, is not universally shared.
By The Newsroom
Published 29th Sep 2010, 17:04 BST
Updated 29th Sep 2010, 17:06 BST

On visiting a small country primary school I met a pest control officer who had been called out to deal with several of the rodents seen running up and down the climbing frame in the playground and paddling in the waste near the dustbins.

"I think of all the pests I have to deal with," he told me, "the rat is my favourite. He's a much greater challenge than other vermin." The man became quite animated. "Your average rat grows to about a foot long and weighs about a pound, but you can get them much bigger. To get them, it's more a matter of skill, intuition and know-how. You have to appreciate how rats think, you see."

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"Really?" I said. "It's a fact. Intelligent creatures rats are, but I have to exterminate them. They're walking death traps. One in 10 rats carries Leptospira which can lead to a whole host of very unpleasant diseases, you know." "You don't say." "Oh, but I do," he chuckled to himself. "Penicillin and other antibiotics have little effect against causal organisms like leptospirosis. It's contracted through rats' urine, often found in contaminated water, and is fatal more often than not. They urinate 80 times a day, do rats. Did you know that?" "No, I didn't," I replied weakly. "And one in 10 rats carries listeria and cryptosporidium, both of which can cause very nasty gastroenteritis." "Oh dear," I sighed. "One in 25 rats has the hantavirus antibody," continued my colleague blithely, "which can lead to haemorrhagic fever. That's a killer. Once you've got that, mate, you're dancing with death."

I was by now fascinated by the gruesome account. "It's fortunate then," I said, "that there aren't so many rats about."

"Not so many about!" he squeaked derisively. "There's 70 million in this country alone. There are more rats than humans on this planet. Rats can give birth every four weeks. One in 20 domestic premises is infested with rats and that's a conservative estimate. You think there aren't so many because you don't see them. But they're there all right. Watching, waiting, breeding and spreading disease wherever they go. You see, your rat is very clever; he's devious, quick-witted and adaptable. You're never more than 15 feet away from a rat. They can gnaw through cables, climb brickwork, get into cavity walls and swim up toilet U-bends. They can squeeze through a hole no larger than my thumb and will eat almost anything." "How will you dispose of the rats?"I asked.

"Traps and poison, simple but effective," he told me. "You know, I have a certain respect for Rattus. He's quite amazing. Body like a coiled spring, calibrated senses, razor sharp incisors, jaws of steel, superb night vision, fast mover, brilliant swimmer and agile climber. I almost admire him in a funny sort of way."

On returning home, I did not relay this information to my wife. Had I done so I guess it would have taken rather more than couple of brandies to calm her down.