Pest Control in the Barn

Everyone (including me) is always looking to build a better mouse (rat) trap.  The chicken snake we talked about last night are pretty good at killing rats.  Trouble is, they always opt for eating eggs and we have to get rid of them.  The rat population expands and then it is time to do something about them.  Two nights this week I walked out to the barn to eradicate (or e-rat-icate) them.

For the task I use the old trusty Marlin lever action .22 rifle, a headlamp with a red light, and Pest Control load.  I call it rat shot.  It is a .22 long rifle bullet that has a tip with lots of little bb's.  When you fire it at the rats, it is like a shotgun blast.  It takes out the rat, but doesn't have the power to go through the side of the barn.

I generally wait until around 10 pm.  I walk out to the barn quietly and turn the red light on.  Leaving the light off in the barn, I stealthily open the gate.  The rats see the light and scurry across the rafters of the barn, their eyes glowing in the red glare.  Pop!  One rat tumbles to the ground, flopping on the ground.  Staying focused, I look around and spot another.  He thinks he's hiding, but his eyes give away his position.  Pop!  Another rat in a death-roll.  

Then there's dead silence.  There's more rats out there, but they've gone incognito.  I'll give them a few days to get over the carnage and then I'll go rat hunting again.  

People on the TV show, "Alone" would skin this rat up and eat it.  Not me.  Tonight I'll have leftover smoked meatloaf and smoked macaroni and cheese for supper!  

Sharing The Cucumber Crop

The garden is producing lots of good, healthy, wholesome food for us.  It's almost overwhelming to harvest it and then bring it in and process it.  We've been blanching multitudes of fresh green beans with more to come.  We're eating them fresh, too.  That's the best way with the new potatoes we've dug so far.

The cucumbers are starting to really produce.  We've been eating cucumber salad daily.  I'll post in a few days our favorite recipe.  In the photo below you can see a trellis that I have three different varieties of cucumbers growing on: Boston Pickling Cucumber, Marketmore Cucumber and Suyo Long Cucumber.  I think I have a fourth variety in there as well: Organic Pickling Cucumber. 

We do have a problem, though.  As I was harvesting cukes, I noticed that several of the ones on the very bottom had been eaten on by a critter of some sort. 

With flowers-a-plenty and many cucumbers at different stages, we have plenty of cucumbers to share with family and friends.  I'm not happy about sharing with critters, though!

I have a small varmint cage trap that a friend gave me.  I pulled it out of the barn and set it with a combination of chicken feed and dry dog food.  The next morning, here's what greeted me...

A RAT!  This one doesn't look like the big Norway rats that I'm constantly killing in the hay loft in the barn.  All I know is that he won't be munching on our cucumbers any more.  We're not operating a 'catch and release' program on Our Maker's Acres Family Farm.  Consider him e-Rat-icated fromt he premisis.  Rats make a mess, carry disease, and eat up the produce.

The Thanksgiving Bonfire

We hosted Thanksgiving at our house this year and had the whole crew over for a big meal. The food was amazing.  I mean every dish was perfect.  After our Thanksgiving feast, we all waddled out to the pasture.  You know, that uncomfortable, "I ate too much and should have passed on the dessert" walk.  We walked out there to light up the bonfire. Since Spring, every time limbs fall out of the trees in the yard, we pile them up on our burn pile in the pasture near the barn. Over the course of months, the limbs pack down under the weight and they dry out.

We have a ten foot high by fifteen foot wide pile of dry sticks waiting to go ablaze on a chilly night. All it took was a couple of matches and some strategically placed newspaper and we had a little fire going that lit up the darkened area a little bit.  It was then that Benjamin reminded me that we had a water hose running right underneath the pile that we quickly pulled out of the way before we melted it.  The burn pile serves as a sanctuary for doves, for hens to run into when being chased by roosters and neighbor kids, and some other critters hide there as well.

C'mon baby light my fire!

It was pretty chilly and as the flames grew higher, we huddled closer to the fire to feel the warmth of the fire that radiated outward.

Flames growing a little higher

The curious cows approached the fire, too, accompanied by a couple of my nephews.

Cowboys

As the flames leapt higher, the entire family enjoyed watching the fire, talking, and warming up right next to it.

Family Bonfire

The fire lit up the night sky.  A couple of years ago when we lit it up, the fire department showed up, sirens wailing.  A neighbor thought our barn was on fire and called 911.  I had to go and thank them for coming anyway.  The heat grew along with the height of the flames and pretty soon, we had backed up as far as we could go against the barn and it was still uncomfortably hot.

Back it up

When we couldn't bear the heat anymore, we moved to the other side of the bonfire where we could back up to a comfortable distance.  It was generating a lot of heat.

A Roaring Blaze

Tongues of flame were dancing into the night sky - easily 25 feet into the air. Fortunately there was no wind blowing as that might have caused alarm for our barn filled with hay.

Tongues of fire

For perspective, you can see just how big the fire was against the two story barn. You can also see the double strand poly wire electric fence that I had to move back away from the fire so it wouldn't melt.  It was about this time where we saw something scurry out of the pile, run across the pasture and into the garden.  All the kids gave chase.  It looked like it was the size of a rabbit.  They stomped around in the garden and out he came.  A big ugly rat running like crazy, scared to death, followed by a herd of stomping, giggling, screaming kids.  And really, you just know that the fun at a bonfire has only just begun when a rat shows up.

It reminded me of the boys chasing the pigs in the book, The Lord of the Flies.   They cut off the rat's head, put it on a stick and paraded it around.  No, they really didn't do that.  The poor old rat was so frightened by the mob of kids chasing him, he ran out of the garden and right back into the fire!  

Now that's a fire!

He quickly determined that that wasn't a good move and ran back toward the garden.  Big mistake, Mr. Rat, for the tribe was awaiting that.  A few kicks and stomps and the enormous rat's life came to a tragic end.  Not counting the length of the tail, this guy was almost a foot long.  A quick election was held by the tribe of kids and they voted to cremate the rat in the bonfire.  We watched as the rat baked in the inferno.  They pulled out his charred and blackened remains after a bit and stuck a stick in him to check on his level of 'doneness,' and he was 'well-done.'  No one ate him, though.  We were still way too full from the Thanksgiving feast. 

Mr. Rat's remains prior to cremation

The fire consumed the huge burn pile and we circled it to kick sticks into the center. It was so hot, you couldn't stand it for long before you had to back away and cool off.  As the fire dwindled, so did the crowd.  One by one we made our way back inside.

Dwindling bonfire

We recruited the neighbor kid to stand on the bannister and take a picture of the entire family.  The whole 'smoke-smelling, rat-stomping, casserole-engorged' crew smiled for the camera as Xander snapped off quite a few photographs before we found one where everyone was relatively photogenic.

Happy Thanksgiving 2014!

The next morning I walked out to the pasture and here is all that was left of the burn pile.  Virtually every stick (and rat) went up in smoke and was gone.

The fire is gone...

All that remained was ashes... and good memories of another Thanksgiving.  

He Just Needed Killin'

Benjamin and I just finished up reading a Louis L'Amour book entitled The Mountain Valley War.  Here's an excerpt or a teaser of the book:

Holed up in a cabin in the Idaho hills, the mysterious man who called himself Trent wasn't looking for trouble. It came looking for him. A trigger-happy kid named Cub Hale emptied his gun into an unarmed man. Then he came swaggering after Trent. The girl who ran the gambling hall tried to get him to hightail it. But Trent wasn't buying. Even in that forsaken back country, he knew when a man had to speak with his shooting iron.   http://www.louislamour.com/novels/mtnvalley.htm

When we finished the final chapter, we just knew what had to be done.  With apologies to Louis L'Amour (and to be read in a dramatic tone):

The night was damp and the air was heavy.  Heavy with suffocating moisture and humidity, but also heavy with the realization that we could either continue allowing the enemy to run roughshod over the primitive settlement of the dirt farmers who eeked out a hardscrabble existence on the Cajun prairie or we could stand our ground and face the sinister outlaw who was inhabiting a homestead he didn't own, where his ruinous ways threatened their very existence.

With a look of indignation, the boy resolved to do something about it and gathered up his Marlin lever action .22 rifle and extra ammunition.  The grim reality hit him that he must take a life tonight and this solemn observance made the journey to the stall seem as long as the vast wide-openness of the American West.  He left his faithful steed tied up and instead opted to walk in determined fashion, making slow, purposeful steps to the bloody destination.  His gait was sure and steady.

The huntsman

Chickens scurried to safety, sensing the danger that was palpable - an ominous, imminent action that would soon play out near the barn.  The cattle lazily slumbered, but became quickly alert with the presence of the boy, swishing their tails at the swarming mosquitoes as if to symbolically and preemptively blot out the horrors they would soon behold in this otherwise peaceful locale.  The Day of Judgment had arrived and there was a debt that had come due.

The boy opened the gate to the barn, whose hinges responded with a creaking, and then the lights came on in the villain's lair as the boy keenly looked around for the outlaw.  As the villain showed himself, the boy's fingers pulled the hammer back. "Your time's up, vermin!" the boy muttered with disdain as he looked into the beady eyes and into the very soul of the despicable creature.   But the enemy couldn't hold the stare and true to the yellow-bellied coward that he was, turned and ran from the gunfight seeking protection amongst the rafters of the barn.

The boy's fingers twitched and found their home against the familiar trigger.  He took careful aim and followed the interloper with the long barrel of his weapon as the wrong-doer ran.  Coward. Time seemed to stand still.  As if in slow motion, the single shot rang out through the thick darkness.  Dust in the air parted as the pellets made their way to their destination. The sound could be heard far and wide across the settlement and all inhabitants perceived what this sound meant.  It was a hearkening sound of justice, freedom, and finality.  No more would they be plagued by this scourge, nay, judgment had been rendered and the debt had been marked "Paid in Full."

The pungent smell of burnt gunpowder filled the enclosure along with the scent of death.  The young man spat on the ground accentuating his disdain for the villain as the trespasser kicked and struggled and breathed his last breath.  "He just needed killin'," the boy uttered.  Somewhere in the distance, a dog howled signaling the end of a long, darkened night which would soon usher in a bright new day on Our Maker's Acres Family Farm.  Oh take heed, all ye dirty rats that welcome filth and breed destruction.  There's a new sheriff wearing the badge and his name, well, his name is Benjamin.

The Huntsman and His Prey

Well, we were unable to catch him in the rat trap, the bucket trap, or the glue trap, but Benjamin got him with a .22 rifle loaded appropriately with rat shot.

He's dead!

He was a big old fellow.  For perspective, that is a size 10 1/2 boot!

Tails you LOSE!

Tomorrow, we try to get his mate.  The hunt never ends.  The guy in the white hat must always be vigilant and watchful.