What happens to the koi if this poison gets in the pond? Animals do carry poisons around – I had the contents of 12 large boxes of D-Con disappear after I saw mice poo in the basement, only to be discovered a month later in the boxes of Christmas decorations. I assume what kills the critter, kills the koi.
I am like Javier Bardem in No Country for Old Men for this rat. We have 'history.'
It was a warm day in early March and I carried the shop vac from the garage out to the deck to vacuum up melting snow that had accumulated on the koi pond winter cover. When I turned on the vac, foul water shot out between the lid and the base – my chest, face and hair was soaked. Thinking the filter had fallen off, I opened the lid and saw a 9” rat swimming. (No, that didn’t count the tail like a koi.) I slammed the lid shut. After 30 minutes of hollering expletives at the shop vac while assuming the rat had drowned inside, I rolled it to the side of the yard, lifted the lid, kicked it away from me and leapt back. The big shop vac was filled with rat poo. Filled. The paper filter had been eaten and was just a tiny flapping ring. I picked up a stick and poked in the massive poop pile for the rat (for all I knew there was a family in there). No rat(s).
Slowly, I turned my head to look at the vac hose back on the deck. I swear I heard the “da-dum da-dum da-dum” horror movie music begin. I gingerly picked up the hose and shook it. No rat. da-dum da-dum da-DUM… I separated the hose from the plastic tubes and shook. Nothing. da-DUM da-DUM da-DUM… I separated the two plastic tubes and shook. Nada. da-dum da-DUM da-DUM… I whapped one tube against the side of the deck. da-DUM da-DUM da-DUM… Then banged the other tube with all my strength SCREE SCREE SCREE SCREE and a 9” tail flopped out. I did what any red-blooded woman would do: I shrieked and dropped the tube. The rat did what any rat would do: he shot out the tube, ran around the pond, through the fence and disappeared. Meanwhile, I was left standing with rat feces all over my face and a few gallons of same heaped in my pachysandra.
Throughout this entire event, my dogs sat on the deck watching, bored, with their chins on their paws.
Later I discovered the rat had been thriving in the garage on a $100 bag of super-premium grass seed, drinking the water from the lotus and lily pots and quite comfortable in the roomy shop vac with its hose access. So as far as rats go, he was movie-star quality: chubby with clean glossy chestnut fur and pink feet, unlike the greasy sewer rats I’ve seen. (Pretty sure it’s a Norway.)
It ate through a brand new seine net, the handles of my tote bags, and my gardening gloves. I had to throw out the shopvac. This one rat has cost me several hundred dollars.
No Barry Manilow. No Hav-a-hart traps.
The rat must die.