E
D I T O R S
C
O M M E N T
By Ant Williams
I
n the dim light, I could just make out a soft silhouette
though it was hard to see if he was facing me or plotting
his escape. Frozen by my sudden presence, we sat quietly
each waiting for the other to make a move. Flicking the torch
on while raising the barrel I could hear my heart beating in
my ears as adrenalin coursed into my bloodstream. It was that
ancient thing we all have, a hunter’s instinct embedded in our
genes which is as much a part of us as the very skin we live in.
In the confined space, I felt a prickle of sweat tickling my
scalp, little specks of dust illuminated by the torch beam, hung
in the still air like distant stars. Now with light, and looking
through the scope, I could make out distinct features, but the
shot was not an easy one. Must I wait? Will he turn? Or will he
make his escape leaving me empty handed? I could not take the
chance, and taking up the slack on the trigger, I held my breath
momentarily before loosing the shot. A squeal told me I had a
hit, but the angle was not good, and it was not a killing shot.
Now the adrenaline buzzed and fizzed, and in the excitement
with sweaty palms, I dropped the torch, plunging me and the
creature into darkness again.
Waiting for my eyes to adjust, I could hear noises. Was
he coming at me...? I could not be sure as with my right hand,
I crawled my fingers across the floor in search of the torch.
“Bryn” I whispered. “I need your help.” My son was back-up,
not with me at the scene, but close enough to hear my urgent
whisper. In moments, he was behind me. The beast had moved
into a darkened corner, and it was now impossible to shine
the torch down the barrel for another shot. “Take the rifle and
I will move left.” As I handed him the gun, I felt his hands
clammy with excitement too, and his breathing shallow with
anticipation. “When I am in position” I whispered, “I will flick
the light on. Take your shot otherwise he will be gone... but
watch out as the scope is set for longer distances, and the sight
image not very clear”.
Feeling my way along, I found myself balanced precariously,
but just enough to hold a steady position. In my peripheral
vision, I could see Bryn ready with the stock firmly in his
shoulder, his forearm muscles tensed, ready. I flicked the torch
on, its beam cutting a stark swathe through the dark, and an
instant later, Bryn let go with his shot. Immediately, the creature
let out another squeal, turned and began to charge, clambering
over the few beams which separated us.
Bryn reeled back, choked a sound somewhere between a
grunt and a scream, triggering my own flight reaction. Looking
a bit like two of the Three Stooges, we elbowed each other for
position, tripping over roof beams while trying desperately, not
to fall through the ceiling. Composure gone, and with more
than a little panic, we clambered toward the trap door where
safety waited. But the torch swung wildly, and neither of us
could see where to place our next step on the widely spaced
support beams. Every now and again, the dancing light bounced
off the rat, telling us he was still coming, his long thick tail
swishing this way and that. Now we were almost falling over
each other. “Reload!” I managed to choke out. Then - Bang another shot, and the creature fell scurrying back to its corner
“Again!” I said. It was unnecessary as the weapon was already
loaded and a quartering away shot placed. The creature reared
up, pirouetted and fell on its back... dead.
We looked at each other, laboured breathing and dumb
smiles. We both realised we had just run away from a rat. “It’s
a sod!” Bryn said, defending us as best he could. “Sure is” I
said, adding “It could have hurt us if it had pressed home its
attack.” We laughed.
And it was a sod. Huge in every way... well for a rat. About
the size of a small cat, the cane rat had taken up residence in
my office ceiling. Gnawing on a pecan nut from the tree outside
my office, he obviously held it against the ceiling for maximum
grip. This, created an amplifier for his gnawing, which over a
few days had begun to drive me insane. Throwing objects at the
ceiling only quieted him for a few minutes, and then it would
start again, robbing me of any concentration, and the ability to
do anything, while the rat poison I offered days before, I suspect
only served to fatten him. Our telephone and internet cables
in the roof had also been a victim of his viscious front teeth.
It was time for action! Out of frustration, I retrieved a pellet
gun, ladder and Bryn’s back-up to put an end to the creature.
Sitting back in my office, adrenaline gone and no noise
to jangle my nerves, I remembered for a moment the little
boy I used to take fishing and hunting, and the adventures we
shared. For just a moment, Mr. Cane Rat had given me pause
for thought, and a realisation how the years have marched by.
A smile still lingered at the thought of us fleeing a rodent, and
the realisation the time had come for us to spend more time
outdoors. I hope to see you there.
The next generation... My Grandsons - Ethan and Cuan
V o l . 25 # 1
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