Reflections on the Death of a Rat

SA 2016

When exiled in Essex looking after an elderly parent in need of extensive and intensive care due to a serious neuro-cognitive impairment, it can quickly become isolating: friends fall away and family members stay away. And it's virtually impossible of course to communicate with the natives, or get to know the next door neighbours. 

And so, like Dr Doolittle, one turns to the animals for companionship; whistling to the little birds, observing the slugs and snails in all their soft beauty, and attempting to befriend a very timid but rather fierce looking local cat who likes to sit under a big bush at the top of my back garden, disappearing through a hole in the fence whenever he's approached. 

I've been leaving him a small tin of Gourmet Gold chicken and liver chunks in gravy at night for several weeks now, which, judging by the emptiness of the tin each morning, he seems to enjoy. Indeed, in what I like to interpret as a gesture of gratitude the cat today left a freshly killed (and semi-eaten) rat on the lawn for me to find.       

Now I know that many people find such feline behaviour gross, or might raise a moral objection to cruelty (it's amazing how many self-professed animal lovers are in denial about the murderous and carnivorous nature of reality). But I must admit to feeling rather touched by this attempt to reciprocate kindness and share food.     

I understand that domestic cats have an effect on wildlife numbers, killing many millions of birds, rodents, and other small creatures each year. However - and this might surprise many readers - there is no scientific evidence that predation by moggies is having any serious impact on other species here in the UK.

What the research does show, however, is that rapid loss of natural habitat due to human activity is the major factor in why biodiversity is shrinking; over 60% of British species have significantly declined in recent decades and 10% face extinction. And it's we - not our pets - who are to blame ...

In Defence of the Slug

I knew the slugs in the garden ate the vegetation and had a particular liking for Maria's flowers (much to her chagrin and my amusement). But until last week I didn't know they feasted also on the dead baby birds that occasionally litter the lawn after a summer downpour.

In other words, whilst I was vaguely aware these naked snails whom many gardeners delight in killing with salt and pellets played a crucial role in the ecosystem by disposing of decaying plant matter, I had no idea they were carrion feeders. Nor did I discover until very recently that some species of slug are predatory and necro-cannibalistic; devouring not only earthworms, but even their dead brethren.               

Nevertheless, I remain sympathetic towards these slimy-bodied hermaphrodites as I am to other animals deemed to be horticultural pests by human beings. Slugs, it seems to me, are more sinned against than sinning, mercilessly preyed upon as they are by a multitude of better-loved garden creatures including frogs, newts, blackbirds, and hedgehogs.      

So leave 'em alone Little Greek: we can always grow new daisies ...