The Hunt

We have an epidemic here in this house.

Rats.  We have no idea how many.  We see the damage.  The rubber strip on the bottom of the garage door has been chewed.  Dog food bags have been decimated.  The dogs going insane around the outdoor fridge when mother rat is up in there somewhere.  And the insanity of when they know she's at the hole under the slab.

Then, there are the snap traps licked clean of peanut butter AND bacon in spite of the lightest trigger ever set.  Then, we bring in the glue traps.  Baited with irresistible bacon, we catch the one from the garage. The dog food bags are left alone.  We seem to smell victory.

But alas!  The dog food bags are attacked again.  We wonder how many more there could be.  Rod moves stuff around the garage to look for the entry point and we find a huge, disgusting mess.  Unfortunately, it is ten pm and I'm not going to clean it up until the next day.  Thankfully, by the next morning, most of the work had been done for us.  The critters had been very busy.  

I set a glue trap in front of their hole.  It snags 3--yes, count them, 3-- juveniles.  One escapes before Rod can get the trap out.  I set another glue trap down, but I nail it into the dirt.  I catch 3 more.  This is a total of 6 juveniles.  I set the next glue trap out and nail it down.  I check it later, and it has been pulled in to the hole and covered in dirt.  Those sneaky demons.  

I take a trip to the feed store and get 2 pounds of poison.  I set 1/4 of the first pound down in front of the hole; I set the second 1/4 in front of the garage entry point.  Both are taken.  I set a third 1/4 down and it disappears.  For good measure, I put one more 1/4 pound of bait in front of the hole.  Of course, being greedy little things, they take it.

Then it becomes a waiting game.  I set a few bits of dog food outside the hole.  It disappears.  I set a few more out the next day; they too disappear.  Today, five days after the original  1/2 pound of bait, I set a few pieces out.  Six hours later, the pieces sit where I tossed them.  This, to me, is a very good sign.  

I'll not congratulate myself, however, until I've dumped some bacon at the hole and that stays uneaten.