13 May 07

11 March 07

25 February 07

11 February 07

22 January 07

7 January 07

Boxing Day 06

26 December 06

6 November 06

8 October 06

17 September 06

13 August 06

19 March 06

We live in a world where boffins are able to sit in their laboratories, un-phased by their facial eruptions and sweaty foist smell; working out solutions to problems we ‘Joe Public’ face on a day to day basis.

Just occasionally Science and technology are unable to practically beat Mother Nature and her plans. Invariably when this happens and Mother Nature puts up two fingers to our plight, desperate measures have to be taken. Necessity is the mother of invention and when a Ryedale pig farmer found that some of nature’s hardest foot soldiers were refusing to give up the ghost and die with the best poisons ICI could throw at them there was just one solution remaining. (well… barring the dubious offer Vietnamese Entrepreneur Po Cum Young made available with his oriental contacts in military and chemical weapons salvage). This dirty job was just what the four legged Gladiators who run out for the Rugby Ratcatchers were trained for and accepted the challenge gladly.

So it came to pass that a Spotted Cow meeting on a mild Sunday morning brought together a group of determined hunters, hungry to land a defiant slap on the over confident arse of her who governs the countryside. This hunger was delayed temporarily as the offer of Tea and bacon sandwiches was made available just a mile from the battle field. In true Romanesque style the Rat catchers took their fill of savouries as Ancient Warriors would pre-battle whores not knowing when the offer might come around again. The Ratcatchers would very much like to thank the chef for his hospitality and look forward to ‘lisp suffering’ Jamie Oliver following his cooking fashions of John Deere overalls.

The battlefield was a simple one. An earth walled bund that adjoined a muck heap had clearly been a strong hold for rodent terrorists. Persistent poisoning had obviously had some effect with vermin carcases covering the site, in varying states of decomposition. However the host farmer gave reports of remaining strong holds inhabited by the meanest and most resistant of rats. These were our targets and they soon made it clear that they were not going to be relocated without a fight.

With an oil rich mix in the smoker and a select few terriers available the holes and runs were systematically plundered. Many rats chose to take their own lives and sit it out in their gas filled homes, rather than to mouth to mouth combat with our dogs. ‘Billy’ was the first to feel their wrath as he frantically dug out an experienced ratty opponent. With teeth/tusks more often seen on a wild boar, the rat latched hold of Billy’s nose before ‘Toffee’ grabbed the rat’s hips. There was a short period of wincing by both the rat and terrier before the rat gasped it last and ‘Billy’ bled like a goat in a West Riding Kitchen!

‘Guinness’ joined the fold once more after a short period of gardening leave. His absence was noted more by the reappearance of his rasping cough, generally associated with heavy smokers or Boarding Kennels closed down with reoccurring Kennel cough complaints. Not claiming to have any veterinary experience one of our more mature stickmen put this persistent retching down to the worm riddled slurry water ‘Guinness’ was choosing to refresh himself with. The wise stickman also followed on to point out that this was why humans should never allow their dogs to lick their owners’ faces. A decision Peter Beardsley’s mother can strongly advocate.

This slime that seemed to pool around the muck heaps was clearly appealing in both taste and smell to both flies and terriers alike. Non more so was the taste appreciated than with little ‘Coco’. In dog terms, this detritus filled soup seemed to offer a certain “Lynx” effect to the longer haired Jack Russell cross. An effect I feel certain her owners would not appreciate smeared upon there soft furnishings back home. Never the less ‘Coco’ could frequently be found rolling some part of her body in it between dispatches.

The day was one not for riving but for fragrant spadework and with a passion for digging ‘Sydney’ felt right at home. With the efficiency of a laser guided missile on some desolate Taliban caves, the stocky black terrier sought out and destroyed the vermin targets. Although the tally bucket was slow to fill the end heap of corpses must surely have reduced the farmers list of Top 100 most wanted rats.