RATS ... HERE COME THE CATS

... And a case of different strokes!

 WE HAVE some new additions to the farm and, as with everything else, the arrivals have already made an impact forcing others to pack their bags and go!

 I'm happy because the newbies have seen off some of the farm's original, more undesirable residents who were making a nuisance of themselves ... 

rodents of all kinds and lots of them.

 The patter of their tiny feet kept me awake on a night time as they ran riot in the attic room above my bedroom.

CAT SNAPPED: A rare photograph of one of our feral cats

 While I accepted that the nearby river would always ensure the presence of the odd water rat, some of the four-legged freeloaders were quite frankly getting beyond a joke in terms of numbers and sheer brazened behaviour when it came to nicking the chicken feed.
Hubby said he would sort it out with traps but that idea didn't float when I pointed out the free range nature of our hens, turkeys, geese and wild birds. He then sought the advice of the local gamekeeper and went off into his workshop developing some home made devices which would lure in rats. I was quite impressed with his ingenuity and positioning of his pipe traps but we both underestimated the intelligence of our foe who became wise as soon as one of their number took poisoned bait.

 The answer was, of course, cats but not just any sort of cat would do. I needed a good ratter and went on to various animal rescue website in search of an independently minded outdoor cat that would take on the task. It's not as easy as it sounds as many adult cat are already quite settled but in the end a solution was provided by the RSPCA over the border who pointed me in the direction of some volunteers from the Cats Protection Charity Shop on Tyneside*.

 They had, by chance, three Geordie moggies, half feral, and in need of a good home which would understand their anti-social nature and nocturnal needs. It was a match made in heaven - their old derelict home had been demolished and they needed somewhere else to live which would give them the freedom to come and go as they pleased.

 They duly arrived back in June and after several weeks settling in, I released the two queens and a tom from a stable to wander freely. I wasn't sure if they would still buzz off and head south but within days, while still leaving out food they returned the compliment by leaving me dead rats, mice and other four-legged furry things like voles and moles. However, just the other day - the only white feral I've managed to give a name to - hung around long enough for me to snatch this photograph above. I still can't get anywhere near her and her other two companions are even more elusive - but they've done a cracking job. The rat population has vanished.

 I named the cat in the photograph Tia although when I shout it out I think the other two respond just as enthusiastically knowing there's food around. 

 And just as pleasing, despite the absence of ready prey, the cats seem disinterested by the local wild bird population, my white doves or the red squirrels. It has been a perfect working relationship in many ways but the sad thing for me, being a cat lover, I wasn't able to show my gratitude with cuddles and strokes because as soon as any of them saw me they would sprint away or vanish up a tree.

ZENOBIA: Settling in to her new home

SHEBA: Queen of all she surveys indoors

 Despite this I know they're around because I continue to get little gifts of dead animals and the food I leave out is gone overnight.  However, as a cat lover, I still began to yearn having a feline wrap itself around my ankles and so I went in search of more rescue cats that would hang around the home. I came across this website: http://www.ragdoll-rescue.co.uk/ and before I knew it I was being interviewed as a candidate to foster a pair of Rag Doll cats.
 They were actually from a loving home but the arrival of an overly curious baby had raised concerns and so volunteers from the Rag Dolls Rescue centre set about finding a suitable person to adopt them. He-who-should-be-obeyed-but-rarely-is was quite bemused by the rigorous interview - such things don't happen in his native Algeria, although he did comment that if people took as much care looking after the welfare of children in Britain as the Rag Doll Rescue volunteers do their cats then cases like Baby P might not arise.  

 The upshot was earlier this month I took possession of Sheba and Zenobia with strict instructions to keep them in a child free and dog free home and not to let them outside under any circumstances. The Rag Dolls you see have no fear and just as you'd not let a child wander outside unsupervised for a stroll around the M25 you can't let these cuties wander around willy nilly!

 Unlike Tia and her crew, Sheba and Zenobia don't appear to have any hunting instincts although they do watch the wild birds and doves with some mild disdain while looking on quite horrified when the turkeys and geese get too close to the lounge windows.

 However the girls are incredibly affectionate and love being groomed and tickled. I can't imagine they'd want to swap places with Tia but at the same time I imagine Tia couldn't think of anything worse than being kept indoors and pampered. 

  * I can't praise the work of the Cats Protection Charity Shop enough and have already made a small donation. Please feel free to do the same, the details are below.

Cats Protection Charity Shop
162-166 HIGH STREET
WALLSEND
NEWCASTLE
NE28 7RP

THE DARK SIDE

..OR how living in the countryside is not a bed of roses

DRIVEN BATTY: imagine this flying around in your lounge

EVER since moving to the Scottish Borders and regaling you with tales of countryside life many have told me how they wish they were here living the dream.
 Admittedly the isolation, getting closer to Nature and studying animal behaviour has been splendid, at times amusing and very spiritually rewarding but if I've over romanticised things then I do apologise. It is only fair to warn that there is also a dark side to countryside living.
 Losing a goose to a badger and then a turkey to a fox was devastating and a brutal reminder that life and death are constant companions here. But there's also the massive spiders lying in wait by the bath plug and if the thought of little furry rodents and creepy crawlies send shivers down your spine then perhaps the countryside is not for you. The dreaded Scottish midgie is also in plague-style proportions at the moment.
 Renovating a 200-year-old coach house has been an unsettling time not just for me but for those who share the same space - wether I like it or not - under our roof.
 Lat year while watching a creepy episode of CSI my viewing in the dark was interrupted by a daft bat which flew through a hole in the ceiling. At first I thought it was part of the program plot and wasn't quite sure why a bat would fly in and out of camera shot until I realised that the creature was zooming in and out of my vision in the living room.

BATH TIME: Spiders love hanging around

plug holes and sinks

 The odd mouse has provided a challenge and then with the arrival of the poultry came the dreaded rat. Hubby has put down poison, in a most inventive way to lure the rodents and not the livestock, but the pests were equally innovative and moved from outside buildings into the attic. The building, like many of that period, has natural air conditioning, secret holes, passages and a second skin to circulate the air.

 One evening there was so much noise coming from the attic I thought the rodents must be line dancing with clogs on their feet.

 In the end I brought in three Geordie moggies, half feral, to try and remedy the situation. The rescue cats came from some stables which were being demolished and a volunteer from the Cats Protection Charity Shop* brought them to the farm when she heard via the RSPCA that I was after some good mousers and ratters and prepared to offer a good home in exchange for their services.

MOUSE: Not so cute in the house

 Being feral, the trio are incredibly elusive, but have obviously discovered the secret passages and warrens which are contained within the building so while they are housed and fed in the stables they must be getting around already.
 I say this because last night, while again viewing TV in the dark, I heard a large scamper overhead, a flurry of activity and then something drop from the hole in the ceiling. It was a mouse and as I leapt in the air running in the opposite direction I'm not sure who was in the greatest flap. Having recovered my composure I followed the mouse to a dark corner and put down a humane trap containing a half eaten chocolate bar.
 Unbelievably it worked as you can see from the picture to my right or, if you prefer, there's a short video clip of the intruder just below. I popped down to the stables this morning to thank the cats but they scattered into dark corners as I opened the door. Feral they might be, but their manners are impeccable ... another dead mouse was left in the open as a gift in exchange for the far tastier meals I'm leaving out for them.
 I don't even have photographs of the trio, so elusive are they, but I'm sure in time this will change. Meanwhile they are doing an excellent job and I expect to be clear of rats, mice and other pests in the coming weeks.

 * I can't praise the work of the Cats Protection Charity Shop enough and have already made a small donation. Please feel free to do the same, the details are below.

Cats Protection Charity Shop
162-166 HIGH STREET
WALLSEND
NEWCASTLE
NE28 7RP

INVASION OF THE EGG SNATCHERS

 Another case for 'B' ... Jedburgh's CSI

RAT SNATCHERS: Painting by Igor Maykov

 AN INTRIGUING series of events has rather focussed our attention these last few days - every morning a part digested egg has been found in the rear yard. Two contained the fully formed embryos of what looked like tiny turkeys while another couple of crushed shells simply could've come out of the hen pen and contained nothing more than traces of yolk.

 Since I collect daily from the hens I ruled out foul play from the pen but wondered where else the hens eggs had come from and who was the culprit and where did the turkey ones come from? And even though I'm still reeling from the last badger visit, I knew Old Brock couldn't be blamed this time round purely because he wouldn't have left any evidence. A fox would've scoffed the turkey embryo while perhaps leaving a few fragments of shell. Then I remembered a story I'd been told a few weeks back, I thought it was an urban myth, but it is perfectly illustrated in the charming picture above right by Latvian artist Igor Maykov. There was nothing else to do I simply had to call in the countryside crime buster, Jedburgh's equivalent of CSI Miami's 'H' aka Horatio Caine. It's a wonder 'B' hasn't gone ex-directory as every other day there's seems to be a murder-style mystery to be solved on the farm but like most folk in the Scottish Borders he's happy to oblige when we struggling townies get out of our depth.

ANOTHER EMPTY EGG SHELL: But no trail or other
clues between it and the stable door in the background

 And so local gamekeeper 'B' duly arrived, surveyed the scene you can see on the right and scratched his head. He paced up and down and walked in and out of the stable several times - it was empty apart from the surrogate Turkey mum. I told him how I collected the hens eggs everyday and since the nesting boxes are all off the ground it would be too difficult for a rat raid, especially in broad daylight.

 He asked about the broody turkey and how many eggs she was sitting on. I told him I didn't know as they were due to hatch any day and she wouldn't let me near her. I told him that she had originally started sitting on her own eggs but I'd replaced them with pot eggs and then changed them to hens eggs. And then, when my other turkey was killed by the fox I'd transferred those eggs to her so she was sitting on a mixture of turkey and hen eggs. The penny dropped, sort of, as I said that.

SILENT WITNESS: The

surrogate turkey.

 Working out all the machinations 'B' said there were several scenarios but that all of the egg shells I'd found came from the same source ... underneath the turkey pictured above left. The real mystery is how they came to land 20 feet away in the yard.

 'B' reckons either several rats baited the turkey during the night and while one distracted her attention to leave the nest the others snatched an egg and rolled it away across the yard to eat. Or the turkey, herself, is separating dud or infertile eggs from the batch which are then being picked up by the opportunistic rodents.

RAT:  Charged, tried and found
guilty in absentia 

 Hens and turkeys will do this if they sense an egg is infertile or if there's something wrong with the developing chick inside. This could explain the near fully-formed eggs we found the other day. I do hope this doesn't mean all of the turkey eggs are duds after their courageous Bourbon Red mum paid the blood price for protecting her nest against a fox recently.

 Time will tell - as for the egg snatchers ... that's another mystery to solve. He-who-should-be-obeyed-but-rarely-is has some detective work of his own to do to track down and get rid of these pests.
 And wouldn't it be great if he set up a web cam or infrared night camera up in the yard to catch the thieves in action. There's a great deal going down here but sadly most of it happens when I'm fast asleep.

SILO TIP

Rats tales ..

NEVER pick up a dead rat by its tail ... it will almost certainly be covered in urine and could lead to the deadly Weil's Disease. These scary rodents aren't incontinent - that's an urban myth - but they're forever marking their territory and their tails get covered in urine as a direct result.
 If you have to pick up a rat - like I did the other day when I found a dead one in the hen run - grab it by the scruff of its neck. And if you do come across a live one do what I also did last week:  run like hell in the opposite direction and find a bloke who can sort it!

Unwelcome visitors ..

Or, there's a mouse in the House

 I've never been plagued at home by rodents, not even when I lived in Soho where apparently you're never more than seven feet away from a rat ... the four legged variety, of course. My other half puts that down to the fact I never cooked when I lived on my own which is true to a certain extent and since I travelled frequently there was never any food left lying around.

 So, unless any furry visitors to my pad carried a can opener it was pretty pointless making a nest in a food-free house.

 However since I left London's Zone 1 and made my new home in the Borders, I've grown used to sharing with an odd assortment of wildlife ranging from bats, jackdaws and things that scamper around. Usually I'm not too bothered by these squatters as most are nocturnal though the jackdaws are noisy at around 6.30am, especially when they've got their young tucked away inside the eaves.

Trapped by a Twix

 Mostly it's a case of out of sight, out of mind but if you're going to squat somewhere you should either be invisible or clean up after you. As regular readers of this blog know, I'm becoming an expert in animal poo - no shit, really! Just a few days ago I noticed tell-tale mouse droppings under the kitchen sink and decided to take action. I went and bought a mouse trap - not just any old trap; it was a humane one so I wouldn't have to unpick a squashed body from a guillotine device in the unlikely event of catching the damn critter. I positively balked at some sticky tape - I mean what would happen if you actually caught something? How would you unpick it and how would you handle your unwelcome visitor?

 So, using a squashed Twix bar - Tom and Jerry cartoons aside, mice don't go gaga over cheese - I set the trap and went off to watch the TV. Returning to the kitchen to make a coffee a couple of hours later I heard a scratching sound and looked at the trap's window. Unbelievable! I'd caught a bloody mouse and it was non too happy about its predicament and neither was I. Stage two had not been planned, nor even contemplated so I do what any sane person would do in this situation - I tweeted, asking for advice.

 The responses were fast and furious. Some daft, some cruel and some unprintable but all had a common theme ... make sure your unwelcome visitor does not run back inside before you do. So the best option, it seems, was to free my captive well away from the house and at first light off we drove nearly two miles down the road. 

 Pulling into a forest tract, two bemused Forestry Commission workers looked on as I explained the mission. That was a couple of weeks ago and since then my unwelcome visitor hasn't returned and nor have I found any other traces of mice poo. And for the Doubting Thomas types, click on below for a truly happy ending.

                                         A HAPPY ENDING