The Rat; Its History & Destructive Character. James Rodwell
Читать онлайн книгу.
“Happy Family” are confined in a large cage about six feet by four, and about four and a half feet high. The whole is surrounded by wires; and the vehicle is drawn about like a truck. The interior is plentifully supplied with soft clean straw, and at night illumined with candles, for the sake of public inspection.
In this singular group you see jackdaws, magpies, hawks, owls, starlings, and pigeons—a white cat and five white kittens—six-and-thirty white rats, in addition to others purely black and purely brown; to which may be added a host of piebald young ones of various colours. There are also guinea-pigs, a monkey, and rabbits; and, to crown the whole, there is a magnificent white ferret, and a black-and-white dog. There they all are, snoozing, sleeping, and rolling over each other in one harmonious concord; and nothing in the shape of discord among them. Such a motley group I never saw before; and taking into consideration their opposite natures, some of which are of the most deadly carnivorous character, it was one of the most interesting sights I ever beheld.
The monkey is very kind to his companions; but, like most other monkeys, extremely mischievous. Nevertheless he has formed an extraordinary attachment to one of the young white rats, and is never happy but when it is within sight. I may say with truth, that Jacko has adopted it as his own, for he nurses and fondles over it just as a mother would over her child, and the rat is perfectly conscious of the attachment, and is quite attached to the monkey; so that let the monkey handle it how he may—which sometimes seemed rather roughly—yet the rat never bites him. But, in order to show me the sagacity of the monkey, his master gave him a biscuit, and bade him feed his baby. He immediately caught his favourite, and, placing it in his lap, gave it a piece, and then had a mouthful himself; yet he had a great objection to the rat having more than its share, which, to tell the truth, was sometimes a very small one.
I have watched this Happy Family for hours together, and all is one unchequered scene of harmony, except now and then, when the monkey, who is king of the colony, is taken with fits of mischief. For instance, when they are all embedded in one corner, and fast asleep, he becomes lonely and unhappy. Down he will jump, and, like a peevish old bachelor, in the bottom of a lumber-cupboard, seeking his lost slipper, he commences groping about for his favourite; and, should he not at once meet with it, he shows his royal indignation by seizing the kittens, rats, ferret, and guinea-pigs by their heads, tails, backs, or bellies. Away he sends them, right and left, flying in all directions to the other end of the cage; but when he finds his favourite his anger ceases. Indeed he is never quiet. Sometimes he will roll his pet on its back, and, with all the anxiety of an affectionate parent, will turn up the fur with one hand, and catch the fleas with the other,—a job he is very fond of, and to which parental solicitude the rat yields with all the complacency of a little fat baby. There is no trouble in finding out which is the monkey’s favourite, for its fur is all turned the wrong way with rough nursing, which makes it look more like a little white hedgehog than a rat. At other times his grotesque majesty will take an instantaneous tour through his dominions. Away he flies, with the rapidity of lightning, all over the cage; and then, bounding from side to side, wantonly sweeps the perches as he passes, upsetting hawks, owls, jackdaws, magpies, starlings, and pigeons, and pitching all the animals that come in his way up to the ceiling; so that, with the fluttering of birds, and the helpless flight of cats, rats, ferret, and guinea-pigs to the ceiling and back again, the cage appears crammed with fluff and feathers; and it is a question whether the great earthquake at Lisbon caused a more instantaneous consternation than does his bobtailed majesty in the Happy Family, when seized with his periodical propensity for polking.
CHAPTER V.
RATS’ NESTS, AND THE MATERIALS FOR BUILDING THEM.
THE female rats about the water-side, or in the fields, &c., select a secluded place where the male rats are not likely to find them, and there build their nests with soft dried grass, leaves, wool, or anything else that chance may throw in their way, and which may tend to make it soft and comfortable. Here they give birth to a naked blind family, which they watch and attend to with all the fondness of the most kind and affectionate of parents. But the rats about farmhouses and towns seem to spurn such simple rusticities; since, for the most part, their nests must be built with silken, linen, woollen, or cotton fabrics, and lined with paper, feathers, or furs. They are not very particular; for anything will suit them, from a lady’s cambric nightcap, silk stocking, Bloomers, Brussels lace, or sable tippet, down to the coarsest brown paper or dried monkey’s skin.
Among the furtive propensities of rats for obtaining their building materials, I give the following instances:—
A gentleman I knew, and his domestics were continually missing various small articles of both male and female wearing-apparel, such as socks or stockings from their bedsides, which they had pulled off only the night before, and also cambric collars, neckties, silk handkerchiefs, or napkins; in fact, any small article which was easy of conveyance. These continual losses of course led to numerous suspicions, which of necessity must have been the cause of many nights and days of uneasiness to the whole household; for, in a large miscellaneous business, where all articles of merchandise are constantly exposed, and where moneys are continually changing hands, what can be so cruelly harassing as to have clear and undeniable cause of suspicion that there is some dishonest person about the establishment. Then who could be the thief? there was the question! One thing was certain, that he who could find in his heart to steal a man’s silk handkerchief would feel few qualms of conscience in stealing his purse, if an opportunity offered. But, on the other hand, what could they want with a single sock or stocking, leaving the fellow one behind? There was the paradox. Yet, upon a more extended view of the matter, it was quite clear that the felonies were not perpetrated by any outdoor thieves; for, had they made an entrance at any time, they would not have taken such minor articles as silk handkerchiefs, odd socks, stockings, or napkins, when there were articles of far more serious value at hand. Besides there were no doors, shutters, or bolts displaced. No, no; the thieves were in the house; and thus things went on for months and months, and, in despite of every care and precaution, still things were continually missing, till their hopes of discovery fell into despair, and gave birth to the most reckless and perfect indifference.
Some time after the master of the house resolved upon having his store-room enlarged, in the corner of which there was a formidable copper, which was connected by means of a flue to a large projecting chimney-stack. All these he resolved upon having removed, as it would render the kitchen so much more roomy and convenient. The bricklayer was sent for, and scarce had he received his orders when he set to work to knock down the flue, and out tumbled eleven young rats, besides a host of old nests which, from time to time, had been built by the rats, till the flue was completely choked up. The copper had not been used for years; but when the bricklayer brought all the old nests to daylight, to the great joy of every one in the house, there were all the missing articles; and a strange motley group they presented. There were pieces of old stockings, old shirts and towels, sundry pieces of silk, flannel, cotton, and woollen cloth. Besides these, there were the remnants of various silk handkerchiefs, gloves, and a host of other things.
In a cellar, in Holborn, there existed a colony of rats, which, from being seldom molested, had eventually become so daring and bold that they even disputed the right of ownership with regard to the food that people might carry upon their persons. One day, the dried skin of a monkey, which had been suspended from a nail in the cellar, preparatory to its being stuffed and preserved, was suddenly missed, when, upon examining the premises, it was discovered behind some loose lumber, cut and torn into a hundred remnants, and fashioned into a commodious nest, in which were encradled five young rats. The infantine progeny were summarily destroyed; but the much-valued skin of the monkey had been rendered entirely useless by the mischievous and destructive parents.
A lady, residing at Malvern, had occasion to leave her home for a time; but on returning, after three months’ absence, she fancied her pianoforte sounded very curiously, and, on sending for a tuner, he discovered that a rat had gnawed a hole through the bottom, and taken up his residence in the interior, where he had built himself a commodious nest with the leather