Are rats really that bad? Why do we have such a massive problem with these furry little guys? What have they ever done to us?
Well, there was, of course, the Black Death. In the 14th century, the bubonic plague swept through Europe, Asia and Africa, killing an estimated 50 million people. That included 40 per cent of the total English population at the time. Rats have long taken the blame for this carnage, which is a little unfair. It was fleas, not rats, that bit us and gave us the disease. Admittedly, these horribly infected fleas rode in on our rodent friends.
While they are now free from plague-carrying parasites, rats today can still carry up to 100 different communicable diseases, including hantavirus, salmonella, leptospirosis, tularemia, and lymphocytic.
Other crimes of the rat include the destruction of our native birds. Kiore were brought here as pets and for food and clothing 900 years ago and they bred fast, dining out on a smorgasbord of delicious eggs and chicks. In the 1700s, those early rats were joined by the Norway rat and the ship rat. Together, they have run amok. According to Forest & Bird, between them, these guys currently kill 47,000 native birds every day.
Even when rats aren’t spreading disease, they are still destructive. Their teeth can grow 13cm a year and as a result, they must constantly gnaw stuff to keep them from outgrowing their mouths. Wood, plastic, furniture and even important structural parts of your home are favourite targets.
It’s not just rats themselves and the diseases they carry that make us not want them around. It’s their wees and number twos. Rats urinate everywhere to mark territory and ownership of food.
On the pro-rat side of the argument, they are highly intelligent creatures. Much smarter than your cat. They can figure out mazes and solve puzzles. Rats can even be trained to do tricks like dogs. Give a pet rat a name and they will come when called. Boringly, the most common name for pet rats in New Zealand is “Ratty”. Other impressive rat traits include their complex eyes. Ours move together in sync; rats’ eyes move around in their sockets, looking at things independently.
It has been claimed we humans have evolved a general fear of rats over tens of thousands of years. The ancestors of ours who stayed away from them were less likely to contract diseases and went on to breed. A flatmate of mine at uni was not one of these people. She had a pet rat living in her dreadlocks.
My fear of rats feels more personal than evolutionary. One morning, I heard a mouse trap snap in our lounge. When I finally got around to investigating, I saw something truly horrific. I pulled back the couch to find a rat eating a still-alive mouse caught in the trap. I screamed, grabbed a half brush and attempted to beat the rat to death for his crime, but he was too fast and escaped without facing punishment.
Last week, listeners of the Matt and Jerry Breakfast Show on Radio Hauraki were asked for their views on rats. Interestingly, it wasn’t disease or food contamination that put people off. It was their horrible, leathery tails. This raises the question: If rats evolved fluffy tails like squirrels, would we think they were cute and let them be?
Hopefully, Countdown Dunedin South will sort its rat problem and be open for business again soon. While this would great for us humans and our grocery needs, it’s sad for those southern rats. As a sworn enemy of our species, they must die - but part of me feels for those little guys. They must have thought they had found heaven when they first got into that supermarket with all that delicious food. Bless.
