Ask any farmer involved with hay making, that has been interrupted by adverse weather and they will all state, with conviction, that "Raked up grass never tastes as sweet". Ask any young man who after a skin full of drink and a couple of memory stirring songs on the juke box, lowers his guard enough to re-live an ex-girlfriend for the purposes of carnal gratification, and they too will say that "Raked up grass never tastes as sweet". In fact even the great Steven Spielberg would probably agree that given his chance again the Great White Shark should have learnt its lesson and not lost its temper on local swimmers in JAWS II. Just occasionally however sequels are just as good, if not better. The Empire Strikes Back, Rocky II and most importantly ratting on't farm at Hovingham.

It was with keen anticipation that members of the Malton & Norton Rugby Ratcatchers gladly accepted a second invite to a most hospitable farm in Hovingham. Pulses ran high at the usual meet outside the Spotted Cow, with some new faces, new terrier friendly weapons and team strips to try out. The convoy set forward, with excellent weather conditions for ratting, knowing that the last visit had set the"bar height" so high.

With an ever increasing party of hunters arriving at the farm it wasn't long before the tally bag started to be filled. The first drive started slowly. Terriers marked well along the footings of a well worked farm building. With some persistent spade work from our tireless gym owner and assistance from terrier "Sydney", the building's gable earth was turned with the results of a power harrow. Meanwhile a splinter group worked the adjoining building side. "Toffee" true to form yapped like hell marking a rich seam of rodents. Bolting rats were neatly dispatched, predominantly by the black and white menace "Minty". Those who were unlucky enough to evade her fatal bite came to a tug of war end with "Billy" and "Elvis" tag teaming. One of our more descriptive members and insurance expert stated from the length of guts that covered the ground that much of the bag from this drive would be stewers not roasters. It was whilst finishing this drive that local legend and host farmer arrived with his terrier "Millie" and tractor mad grandson. "Millie" spent no time at all getting to work on her home turf and grandson spent no time at all sparking up their Renault and raking the nearby ground with its muck bucket. Sadly, for many of the surrounding stick men, the stench of the burial pit from our first visit unearthed by the tractor was too much for some, who made a speedy exit before repeating their breakfasts.

The hunt made a geographical progression to a soil bound silage clamp. Time and energy were spent smoking holes, shifting tyres and digging earth, sadly to very little effect. However this clamp seemed to be the gateway to bigger and much better things with the next three drives producing some of best ratting to date. A catalogue of agricultural machinery that some thought the farmer had forgotten about or lost seemed to harbour plagues of rats. Alcathine piping flailed, boots stomped and screams echoed out across the farm. However rumours of audio tapes being made and sold to Soho S&M clubs for ambient back ground noise were grossly exaggerated. Rich veins of rodents kept being discovered from random spade work. All the terriers at one point seem to be shaking a rat a piece, even rookie and first time off the lead "Coco" managed to get the better of a teenaged rodent. At one point a biologically aware ratter suggested phoning David Attenborough to classify the gingery coloured rats that seemed to be indigenous to this area of the farm.

An old railway carriage in a state of disrepair seemed to be particularly popular with the local rats. Old and newcomers alike must all have been impressed by the productive cover crop. A new recruit, ex-rugby league player and expert in the ways of the West Riding compared the exodus of rats to that of locals fleeing a burning mosque. An opinion that obviously cannot be condoned by the Malton and Norton Rugby Ratcatchers.

With both terriers and Ratters beginning to flag the whistle was blown, weapons laid down and team photo taken. Again thanks must be rained down upon the host and his "Sure Thing" farm. Although the battlefield resembled that of the Somme, when we had finished, the host must surely be grateful not to be feeding the 53 rats that were relocated into one large hole at the end of the day.