Lawdog
"How is the pest control doing?"
This was awhile back, haven't had a rats in my "concession" since they cleared the woods across the street to build more houses. I think I preferred th rats!
A USE FOR RATS
By Larry M. Gibson
Was it the cold bleak gray light of the short winter day through its somber mood that had defused my sense of alertness? Perhaps it was the mesmerizing stories, which had my mind, if not my soul, in a far distant land and time. My mind was adrift in Africa walking the banks of the Tana River with Meinertzhagan some 97 years ago. Closing Volume VIII, Hunting in Kenya, I contemplated whether my recent sigh was one of disgust at being born a century too late or merely because my coffee cup was empty. With that lingering thought another plaintive sigh brought me to my feet and had me headed for the coffeepot. I could have inquired of my good and lovely wife, Kathleen, for a refill but I have long been conditioned that such a request may invoke a dreaded honey do!
Therefore I advanced stealthily upon the Mr. Coffee. However, as always an instinctive habit took over and I glanced out at the bait tree. It had been two weeks now since any rats had been to the bait. The squirrels would usually make a daily visit to their feeder, though usually on these cold wintry mornings they come later in the day. The blustery, still dark shadows of that cold March mid-morning lent a camouflage screen to the squirrel perched on the ledge of the feeder. As I reached for the coffeepot the thought struck like a Tyson right cross up along the side of my head! That squirrels tail was not bushy! Two short steps brought me back to the edge of the sliding doors with a quick peek confirming the rat was still there. Or at least I was thinking it was more rat than squirrel.
Now why is it Murphys full time job to just follow me! There I was on one side of the sliding doors and, of course, the binoculars were on the other side sitting on the end table. Dropping down low I began the long painful low crawl to the other side. My years of such experience in the Army were indeed paying off, until that is, my wife walked in! With both hands on her hips I got that tongue clucking sound that only a wife, with a disdainful point of view, can make. Another rat? she inquired. Its time I move quickly so I grab the nocs and tell her to get away from the doors, shell spook the rat. Now I ask, is my wife any different than yours? Does she silently step away as her great white hunter, her PH for life, her Bwana says to? No, of course she doesnt! She steps right up to the full length sliding door and gives it the classic outstretched hand over the eyebrow Umm, Tonto see-um look!
That looks like a squirrel to me she says matter of factly. A quick glance with the nocs confirmed to me it was a rat, and a damned big one at that! I hand the nocs to her and head upstairs to my hide. You make sure thats not a squirrel, it still looks like one to me. She yells over her shoulder. Fortunately for me I was halfway up the stairs and moving fast when I said, You dont have your glasses on! I would have probably been nocd upside the head had it not been for my lightening speed! Slipping into the bedroom I could later claim I didnt hear her next remark. I picked up the R9, pulled the scope cover off and stepping into my hide cocked the rifle. I leave a .20 cal Crow Magnum pellet in the breach with the rifle uncocked. The 4X Simmons is already pre-focused on the bait so cocking the rifle is all thats necessary.
Standing in the tub the pungent fragrance of many candles, incense and whatever other smelly stuff I get her assails my senses, wafting me off to far away exotic lands. Something to be said for atmosphere. Fortunately, my wife was not taking one of her relaxing baths. Ive often pondered the consequence of us having a meeting engagement in her tub, my hide, should I spot a rat. It could get distracting, but alas, this was not the time to find out. I slowly slid the window open about three inches to the left. The rat seemed not to notice. It was intently devouring the very spendy squirrel mix Kathleen buys at the trendy pet shop in the snobbish part of town. I could get six times as much for the money at the local feed and seed but then, it just isnt the same. So OK, the squirrels might eat expensive grits but Ill be damned if the rats will.
I pushed the R9s barrel out the window taking a nice rest with the back of my left hand on the windowsill. The crosshairs are settling as my right thumb slides the safety off. Shallow breathing now as the first stage is taken up on the trigger. Be careful, the second stage breaks clean at two pounds. A precise aiming spot is picked on the close shoulder, which will allow the pellet to drive down through the shoulder, through the heart/lungs and low out through the offside shoulder. The crosshairs lock on that spot as my breathing is checked and the final pressure applied to the trigger.
At the shot the rat crumples then tenses. I have seen the shot hit and some feed is blasted away on the offside. The shot was precisely as expected, but long experience tells me to reload very quickly for this one is not finished. Cocking the R9 another Crow Mag is thumb pushed hard into the breach, no time to use the seater and the barrel is closed. The rat seemed to be mortally wounded but begins to thrash violently and falls the five feet to the ground. It is recovering quickly and has gotten its legs under itself. The legs then begin doing what legs do, move it! I do not want the rat to get into the dense brush, mere inches away, because once there, it may be difficult to sort things out. I try for a headshot but theres too much movement. I quickly shift the crosshairs to the front shoulders again and fire. That finishes it, the movement stops the rat collapses and is dead where it lies. Kathleen is duly impressed; she forgives my transgressions regarding her vision and pours me a cup of hot coffee!
And thus it turns out, on this Twelfth Day of March in this year 2000, rat #35 has succumbed to the .20 cal R9 with Crow Magnum pellets. This is the third rat killed so far with the R9, the other 32 having been killed with a .22 cal RWS M54 with Crosman Premiers. Since rat #31 I have only been using heart/lung shots in an attempt to determine what is the difference in the effectiveness between the two rifles and calibers. I may switch to Crosman Premiers or FTSs in the R9 for a more valid comparison. This rat #35 was a very large, tenacious and apparently very pregnant female. She went 14 ½ inches between the pegs and weighed a tudge over 3 pounds, as weighed on a small hand held fish scale. Of three rats killed with the R9, #35 is the only one which has required an insurance shot, so far. A 15 inch male, rat #32, shot with the M54 did not require the insurance shot and barely quivered before it died. Too small of a sampling for now, but time will tell and of course with the cooperation of more rats!
Now let us see whats next. Ah yes, A Lion Drive on Lake Nakaru with Chapman, circa 1904
.mmmm and that coffee sure is good!
