Archive reports

Every campaign has to begin somewhere as a point from which to improve. Occasionally, as Mrs. Hindley can vouch for, this evolution can be a detrimental one and she must look back wishing she had noticed the aversion her angry daughter had with the moors and a tape recorder. That said after a six month break many of the ratcatchers, be it stickmen and terriers alike, were a little rusty and in need of a starting point from which to condition their minds, bodies and bites.

So, as often before, a group of blurry-eyed ratcatchers met first thing, outside the Spotted Cow, for what was widely publicised as a gentle warm up event. Expectations were far from high that any rats would even be seen but the opportunity for a long awaited get together and Sunday morning terrier warm up was too good to be missed.

Whether it was the start time or the fact that the location had been played down a much depleted convoy of three terriers and a double handful of stickmen set out on this glorious Autumnal morning to a steaming midden in Scagglethorpe. As the convoy drew up to what seemed like an active volcano of racehorse bedding, gulps could clearly be heard from the gladiators daunted by the magnitude of the task ahead. Like a horny homosexual bus conductor, the keen for work terriers disembarked their transport and set about probing the shitty mounds.

The quarry was keen not to leave its warm Sunday morning bed and it took a good 15 minutes before “Toffee” started paying particular interest to a poop peak in the middle of the mountainous midden. Seemingly unprepared for the terrain, stickmen shared what little equipment they had come with in the form of a rake, two small gardening folks and a spade. Although laborious the ill equipped, persistence paid off. Rats began to bolt, stickmen began to yawp and terriers began to dispatch. “Sydney” claimed first blood when a useful sized rat bolted from under its do-dos duvet. It was missed by four or five very rusty stickmen and their off target alkythene pipes only to be restrained and terminated by the cube shaped, black assassin. Although low in numbers and lacking a terrier outfield the three canine gladiators worked well together. A season on, “Coco” showed a maturity in the way she dealt with the rodents that leapt around her on the difficult ammonia soaked straw playing field.

Necessity proved to be the mother of invention and as the sweat poured off the choking folksmen it was decided to borrow a helpful telescopic fork lift. It was also at this time that the host farmer arrived to assess how battle was faring. Seemingly amazed and a little disappointed by the tackle on show he decided to nip home and return with his JCB. With enough plant machinery to widen the A1 the outer edges of the midden were continually turned like an incontinent’s mattress. Rats fled the disturbance to their disadvantage and were promptly shorten of life by an improving set of terriers and stickmen. However the best was still to come.

Alongside the muckheap was an old crumbling stack of straw bales. The hospitable host farmer thought it might be entertaining to demolish the wheat tower with the back actor of his JCB. Systematically the mechanical arm pulled off bale after bale, brushing the loose straw to one side and clearing a perfect avenue for battle. Rats escaped the impending problem like hot-tubbers would after hearing that one of their fellow bathers had just come back from a weeks volunteer work on a Leper colony. When terrier mouths were full, stickmen had chance to improve their aim. One particular flat cap wearing warrior found difficulty finding his, as he swished his pipe to no avail. A rather cruel team mate was quoted as saying “There was less chance of him catching aids from an African blood transfusion than there was hitting one of the many rodents that ran eagerly towards him. As the heap got thinner the more confident rats had no choice but to make a dash for it. Our new Australian visitor showed some uncharacteristic sympathy to these scabby over confident pests who were taking a real beating at the hands of a group of English rugby players (No idea why???).

To top off the ever-increasing tally bag, and for that matter enjoyable mornings sport, our ratting party was able to diversify from their usual quarry when a pair of rabbits were spotted within the stack. “Toffee” was as keen to sample foreign fare as a North Yorkshire Farmer might taste “one of them there Italian Pizzas”. Along with Richard Gere “Toffee” was a little unaccustomed to such a girth of rodent, she battled with the rabbit for some time before it could be humanely dispatched. The second rabbit seeing what destiny had in store decided to make a better run for it. When it reached the unfamiliar fenced boundaries that had been erected to slow fleeing rodents confusion set in long enough for “Coco” to latch onto the long eared beast. The two wrestled like paid trollops on an oiled plastic sheet, both refusing to yield. However a winner was finally selected and to “Cocos” relief  the death chop rained down on Roger Rabbit instead. This relief was also shared by “Coco’s” owner who had witnessed his appalling aim with an alkythene pipe.

With the bales destroyed and their squatters relocated to a heap in the hedge back it was decided to call it a day. “Sydney” who is prone to bleeding like a haemophiliac stuntman was forced to retire for the day with a nipped nose. Her owner however rather cruelly kept her on a lead but took up arms with his pipe and some excellent death strokes in the outfield. “Coco” and owner missed the team photo to honour a prior engagement and return the borrowed forklift to the helpful nearby farmer. It was decided that on Environmental Health grounds the tired and thirsty ratcatchers would not continue on to the Ham & Cheese pub for a spot of lunch due to our smell and flies that followed us. We would like to again thank the host farmer for not only the venue but his energetic assistance with his JCB. The day had proved invaluable for fitness and rekindling the desire to lessen the Ryedale Rodent population.