Reducing a rat plague

THIS has been a ‘‘rat week’’ in Great Britain, ratcatchers having been distributed about the country to supervise the offensive. We have heard by cable of an outbreak of a mysterious disease among cats in the Old Country which has been attended by a heavy mortality. The prevalence of this disease and the prominence which is now being enjoyed by the ratcatcher do not, however, stand precisely in the relation of cause and effect. Legislation was introduced in the House of Commons in August ‘‘to make further provision for the destruction of rats and mice.’’ The matter has doubtless its humorous side, but the scientist, the sanitarian expert, and the enlightened farmer will appreciate its serious side as they have done in Australia where the loss of wheat, stored in vast accumulations, must have run into many thousands of pounds during the past few years through the depredations of mice. We do not know what is the population of the Old Country in terms of rats and mice. Fifty million rats are, however, said to be marked out for destruction. During the war period the rat appears to have been left comparatively in peace, everybody being too busy to attend to him, and he has thriven and multiplied accordingly. Now the counties are appointing executive rat officers at from £200 to £300 a year, and paying from a penny to twopence for every rattail, the generous Isle of Wight scale even reaching threepence. But the rathunting enthusiasm of one or two counties out of many is no doubt rightly

regarded as futile as against the amazing fertility and the adaptability of the rodent. Therefore it is concerted or national action that is aimed at, and it is suggested that there is no danger of humanitarian sentiment being affronted by this crusade.