How We Hunt

We are a team--sometimes a successful team...

Monkey and Buster tell me where something is hiding, I move debris out of the way or wiggle a stick under a cupboard in the garage, the mouse or rat runs out, I scream, "Get it! Get it! Get it!" and the dogs either look the wrong way and miss it completely or one of them nails it--usually Buster. Monkey once caught a huge rat I'd pelted with rocks until it lept down out of the persimmon tree, but when she realized she had an enormous squiggling mass of rat in her mouth, she quite sensibly dropped it. It ran, I shrieked, "Get it! Get it! Get it!" and Buster chased it down before it could escape under the deck. He's a great rat killer: with a slick, very professional rat killing terrier shake of his head, it's done and he's created a wonderful plaything. After he tires of it, I put it in the garbage can because I am the human member of the team.

Rats!

Buster thinks he's got a rat cornered...

One year I trapped 27 mice in my laundry room.

I haven't had any mice recently, but Norwegian Rats have been busy in my yard, under the house and in the garage over the last couple of years. A number of them have lost their lives to traditional slap traps but they seem to have those figured out, so recently I bought a BB gun, imagining that a pile of fruit  would lure unsuspecting rats to a spot in the middle of the back yard and I would pick them off one by one from my comfortable chair on the deck. I bought a head lamp with a red filter so I would be able to see them without them being aware of me. However, although I don't mind trapping the rats, deciding that I'm willing to try to shoot a chubby creature feasting on figs ten feet from me is more difficult moral issue than I thought it would be.
I had my kitchen sink re-plumbed a couple of years ago and until yesterday when I finally signed a contract with a tile setter, I couldn't decide how I wanted to re-do the counter and back splash I'd had torn out. The back splash has been open to the lath and only slightly drafty in the winter, no big deal, and I thought I was going to remodel the kitchen or the whole back of the house, so just couldn't commit to getting it closed up again, but no big deal.  A few weeks ago though I noticed that the little peach pits I'd been saving from those little flat peaches that look like the rings of Saturn were disappearing from next to the sink, one or two or more each night. I left a piece of apple peel on the sink and the next morning it was gone. Then I put a few bits of dog food on the back of the counter and they, too, disappeared. Looking more closely at the back splash, I noticed that the mystery creature had reshaped some of the lath to improve its access to the countertop. Hmm. That pushed my curiosity and amusement over into concern for health and safety. I broke up some tasty bars of rat poison into pieces small enough to take back through the slats and sure enough, the next morning, the poison was gone. For the next couple of days, the little bits of food I left out on the sink kept leaving, then no more. A bad smell in the back yard alerted me to a dead rat. My nightly visitor? I couldn't help feeling a bit sad. It never left any evidence of its visits and it took only what was left out on the countertop. Poor Ratty!

On the other hand, the rats in the yard--probably my kitchen rat and kin-- got ALL of the grapes, ALL of the pears, and every single persimmon, way before they were ripe. That really galls me, which is why I bought that BB gun and may yet use it.

The Possum and Buster in the Peach Tree

Monkey was wildly barking in the chicken coop, so I knew the dogs had discovered another creature there. I assumed it was a rat, so I said "Are you ready? Ready, ready?" as I prepared to pull out the nesting boxes and expose the rat so they could get it. Buster dove in as I pulled the boxes out, but there wasn't the usual run and scuffle. He had something, but it didn't run and it was big!

Too big for a rat, but small for a possum...it was a teenage possum.

I took a bunch of pictures

but wanted a more natural setting, so I put the possum up on a branch of the peach tree

and took some more pictures

Then I noticed some motion off to my left and was surprised to discover another creature in the tree:

Buster's extreme prey drive turned him into a tree-climbing dog!

Over and over, he climbed the tree, trying to get that poor little possum.

Buster got better at climbing the tree (more video of Buster practicing climbing and jumping out of the tree at http://gallery.me.com/joellenarnold#100080) and I was enjoying the show, but suddenly, the possum fell out of the tree! Of course Buster lept down and grabbed it again, but I don't think any more damage was done to the possum. I picked it up and put it back in the box and we all got in the car to take it to the river. I left the open box on its side in a bramble of ripe blackberries and wished the possum better luck.