Mrs Down's Dirary July 8 2009

There has been quite a plague of furry four footed vermin. One of them, after an encounter with my mousetrap, is probably wandering around somewhere with less toes on his foot than he should have. I heard a scuttly, draggy sound in the pantry and found a mouse caught by its back foot in a trap.

"You should have just knocked it on the head" I was told later. But I am afraid I am a softy at heart. I swear the mouse looked straight into my eyes and pleaded for its life. The upshot being that I took the trap, plus mouse, down the lane; releasing the mouse to hobble away and enjoy another day. Less a couple of toes.

Next day the trap caught a large slug. The moral being if I invite you for a meal think twice. You don't know what's been in that pantry.

Back to the rats. Whilst we had the ducks in the yard John left several traps set to catch any rats tempted to feed on the duck pellets. With some success. However, as we then had Ollie, our grandson, to stay for a few days, and he loves the chance to poke around where he should not be, the rat traps were taken away.

It does not take long for the rats to return. Several of our farm cats have been killed on the lane recently. Drivers have discovered a motorised rat run through the village and speed through. So the rats natural predators have been reduced. At the same time, with the best will in the world, ad lib feed for bulls and heifers and ducks in the foldyard and sheds, must provide a veritable feast for vermin.

Hence my romantic invite. Some of the rats have made a home under a small shed where gardening equipment is kept. It is at the side of the big shed in the yard and handily placed smack outside our back door. Where a table and bench are placed for cups of tea, farm yard chat etc. During the course of the evening the rats have been seen to race from the old farm buildings, across the front of the big shed and pop under the gardening shed. It is whilst they are crossing such a large open space that they are vulnerable. Rather like one of those fair ground games. Only its not a duck you are aiming at.

The venue is not without its merits. This week John has been busy making hay and although most of it is in big bales and still to be brought home, the big trailer has 300 small bales stacked just inside the big shed. It smells gorgeous.

So there you have it. The scent of summer. The swoop of bats chasing moths. The companionship of the dogs (who strangely are not interested in rat). The quiet clucking of my bantams as they usher their broods ( which have appeared out of nowhere) back home to bed.

And the crack of the air rifle. Three down. Heaven knows how many to go.