Archive reports

Technology is a miraculous thing. Anyone who has ever seen a modern day car plant, or factory line can do nothing but stand open jawed at the efficiency that robotics and technology in general can perform. However let us not forget that it is the human input that thought of these technologies in the first place and it is us humans that turn the ignition key and park the cars up in the acres of tarmac spaces. So when an invite came, from a locally renowned spin bowling, Terrington farmer and all-round decent chap, to give a bit of additional human input to a technical poisoning program he had initiated the Malton & Norton Rugby Ratcatchers were happy to oblige.

The Spotted Cow again offered the usual meeting place for the band of eager stickmen and terriers to congregate and talk tactics. A convey then made its way to Terrington meeting up with some travel direct ratters, forming an army of eight, fit for work terriers and an age ranged team of stickmen.

The jolly farmer met us in his yard with what seemed like a gallon and a half of sloe gin that was welcomed with open mouths; defending us from the chill of the autumnal morning. Apologies were soon made for the frequency that seemingly every terrier on the team excreted their breakfast on the well swept concrete floors of the host’s air hanger-esque corn store. With a trip of guilt one of the senior members offered to clear up the mess that resembled the sort remnants left by a passing visit from Bobby Sands. As the warming drink was lessened an irritating yap could be heard from a shed opposite. “Toffee” was marking and a barrage of rodent destruction was to follow.

The main body of the team made its way around the back of the farmyard and one Dutch barn in particular. “Raymond” lived up to his deserved prowess by being the terrier to draw first blood with a couple of quick succession dispatches. A stretch of holey bank was dug over and smoked with little result but served to get everyone’s juices flowing for what was to come. Behind some pig sheds was what can only be described as the land that time forgot. If ever there was a mat that the tidy farm floors were swept under this was it. This patch of earth proved to be the main arena for the days sport and few of the gladiators can claim not to have seen a piece of the action. Amongst the earthed in gates, redundant machinery and heaps of rubble terriers picked their battles and performed admirably. “Sydney” “Coco” and “Guinness” all noted for their showmanship. Rats bolted in all directions and excited shouts were generally the first sign that rodent battling was required.

One of the highlights of the day was an apparent rat sanctuary in the form of a stack of timber potato boxes. Stacked tightly together and three boxes high the terriers could smell rodent but frustratingly struggled to get at them. With some strategic smoking, pin point prodding and some less intelligent riving many of the thought to be safe quarry were apprehended. A certain rabbit however thought he could out smart the ratcatching team by sitting tight in the centre of the stack. Recent recruit and slender built “Frankie” used a snake like action to squeeze through a broken side board and attack the bunny from above. As the rabbit exclaimed its concerns other rats bolted to escape the same fate. These were promptly punished. As “Frankie” and her rough haired partner in battle “Raymond” tried every angle to gain purchase on the rabbit a brave and executive decision was made by a senior member of the club. Being as insurance is somewhat in the forefront of his every day life his team mates were surprised to see him flaunt his risk assessment and push his barely gloved hands into the dark void. The grimace on his anxious face might well have been that of a colonic irrigationist who accidentally withdrew their plastic flush pipe too quickly to find that the end had broken off and a latex gloved lucky dip was the only option to remove the plastic tip. To the ratters relief, although peppered with nettle stings, his wrists avoided rat bites and he, not for the first time, withdrew triumphantly. The retrained rodent then spent the last few moments of its life finding out what it’s like to be a swinging trapeze artist with dangling terriers below.

The ratting event then moved to the inside of a farm building used to store bags of fertilizer. The dimly lit room resembled scenes from the Blair Witch Project and both the stickmen and terriers seemed at a distinct disadvantage over the rats, many of which escaped through small holes between the half tonne bags to their salvation. However some serious agitation to a stored elevator and a relocation of some wooden sheep hurdles brought just rewards.

As the ratters left the prosperous grounds of the farmyard to try some open countryside the apparent devastation left from the poisoning became clear to see. Corpses lay everywhere, in every corner and under every shelter. An impressed yet rather cruel ratter was quoted as saying “He had not seen as many stiffs since last at one of Michael Barrimore’s pool parties”. An admission that we, thankfully, can not verify.

Outside of the farmyard arena the pickings were a little slimmer. The odd loner rat paid the price of not being gregarious as they were smoked and bolted to their regret. After some good marking from “Minty” the host farmer gave permission to ignite a broken bale away from the stack. This was welcomed and with the smoke, flames and Yawping that followed, could well have been a reconstruction from a Crimewatch show, where filthy travelling folk were given their marching orders with a good splash of petrol over their caravan. Instead of the fleeing rats making their way into the Pikeys’ cooking pots the bolting rodents met certain death from a terrier outfield. Although three mixey rabbits were further given relief from the tickly eyes they had, little more pest control could be found. First time ratter “Penny” was welcomed to the team and served a baptism of fire from not only the ‘in at the deep end’ ratting battles she took but the barrage of choice language and flailing kicks directed at her disobedience.

At the end of the ratting a team photo was taken and events recited. Many could but wonder what might have been had the Ratcatchers taken the invitation prior to the farmers very effective poisoning program. The farm had had its pest numbers further reduced and the farmer was thanked for his hospitality. Welburn’s Crown & Cushion public house offered a stop for refreshment and an ever smiley landlord.

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