The message
from Judith Lea contains these words:

I can do better than that, in the summer when the apples were falling
off the trees, the rats, en masse, were having a party on apple juice,
apple tarts, crumble etc. They were not even bothered about me trying
to put out the washing literally just feet from them - they thought I
was such a calm lady - just standing there very calmly observing their
luncheon habits, they were wrong, I couldn't move, I could barely
breathe and had they taken another step towards me, I had worked out
that I could swing on the washing line and scream for help - this is not
a joke; I was terrified - the gardener said they get drunk on the apples
and he shot them, 4 at a time until we had the vermin man in again. My
neighbours must be gossiping about me - am I worried? (in Catherine Tate
mode) - yeah!


I can beat that, if not for numbers, then with drama.

It was a particularly bad year for rats, they were everywhere, and I had
made a hole through the wall to the outside to accommodate a water pipe.
For some reason, I went into the kitchen around three in the morning,
and a rat leapt into the hole and escaped.

I blocked it up, but mindful that it might well be in the cavity, I sat
up in the shadows the next night with the 9mm garden gun. At about
three, a little face appeared at the hole. Gently and slowly, i raised
the gun, and just as it was beginning to descend into the kitchen -
*CRACK!*

If ever you've seen a western, you'll have seen one of the baddies shot,
and falling off a balcony?

Just like that.

Some minutes later, Mrs Rat appeared. Another balcony job.

A couple of weeks after that I fed the goats late, and disturbed a
*HUGE* rat, which was munching the stuf spilt by the goats. The next
night I took a couple of bales of straw in, tilted the shade of the
light so the (hanging) feed bowl was lit, and I was in shadow, and with
the 12 bore over my knee, waited.

The goats all came and leant up against me, no doubt pleased that I was
being so pally as to come and sleep with them.

Again, at around three in tne morning, Rat appears. I take aim.

*BOOM!*

From folded-up positions, five goats rose several feet vertically,
circling me at speed by Western like Injuns attacking a circle of
wagons. /Western

The rat had been blown about four feet by the blast, and I picked it up
by the tip of the tail and slipped it into a polythene bag. It weighed
just under four pounds, and the base of its tail was as thick as my
thumb.

--
Rusty
Direct reply to: horrid dot squeak snailything zetnet point co period uk
Separator in search of a sig