It was a beautiful day today in New York. The sky was blue, the grass was green, the birds were in the trees twittering away, and the weather was warm and mild.
So of course my thoughts turned to rats.
Why?
Because I am increasingly obsessed with rats. Not in some bad way, where I am worried that they will nibble my Top Ramen in the middle of the night, or pass Bubonic Plague, or some new ratty H1N1 virus, but because I think they are cute, adorable, intelligent, and absolutely fascinating.
Ok, so I may be one of the only people in New York that believes this, but they are!
Perhaps it’s because my roommate absolutely forbids me from bringing any pets into my apartment. Or perhaps it is because my “experimental tutor” in college was certain Mr. Huey McAmnesty, a rather large Sprague-Dawley Rat that I saved from certain death after a series of operant conditioning trials. Or maybe I am just weird. But these little guys definitely hold a warm, fuzzy, and slightly urine-soaked cedar-chip place in my heart
I first started noticing the rats in New York when I visited almost two years ago. Back then I was living in Chicago, which has alleyways for its trash, so I was absolutely astonished to find the glittering streets around Times Square piled with stinking refuse. This was obviously a sad consequence of some rather poor urban planning more than a century ago, but as a pleasant result my night walks home left me with incidental sightings of shadowy forms scampering about in the stinking rubble.
Why is this a pleasant result?
I told you, I’m just weird.
But forget that for a second and take a moment to look, really look, at a New York City sewer rat. Look at the matted hair that sticks up on their backs like some strange little hedgehog. Look at their beautiful little black eyes shining like pools of vivid black ink. Look at their miniature asymmetrical ears that are often missing little pieces triangular flesh from biting matches. And if you are brave enough, get in really close to see the tiny yellow, cheese stained teeth.
Plus, contrary to popular belief, they’re usually not that big. Maybe half a foot on average. Ok, so maybe that is a little big, but they aren’t the size of a Chihuahua (like the pet that the poor little child takes home in that much-repeated horror story).
How could you not love a creature like this?
Quite simply, many would respond.
And even if you can’t see the intrinsic beauty in my four-legged Black-Plague carrying buddies, there’s always some sort of fun to be had with them.
Lately, they’re the inspiration for one of my favorite games: “Spot-a-Rat.” This game is so basic that it almost doesn’t need an explanation, but for the sake of completeness I will go through it. Every time I enter a subway and find myself staring vacantly down at the tracks littered with Coca-Cola bottles, Doritos wrappers, grocery bags, and the assorted accoutrements of human waste I try to see how many “Rattus norvegicus” I can count before the train comes. I almost always find at least one scampering along the railing next to the tracks, or drinking from the darkened pools dripping from the overhead pipes, but sometimes I get really lucky.
So far my all time record is eight rats in the six minutes in-between trains on at the Canal Stop off the 6 train line. In general most of the Brooklyn stops are better than Manhattan stops, but the 125th Street station next to my apartment has netted me seven rats, while the Lower East Side stop off the “F” did a respectable four.
If I have a companion with me while I wait for the train, I usually ask them to join along in my ratting, but more often than not, I just get sidelong glances with some exclamation about my mental growth stopping somewhere in high school (I actually place it somewhere in middle school).
I understand though. Some people are just bigger fans of mice. It’s kind of like dog versus cat people. For those that would rather watch Mickey, the South Street Seaport food court area is an absolutely spectacular nature observatory after about 7:00 p.m., with literally dozens of wallet-sized mice racing along the edges of the tables for scraps of orange chicken. Just remember to close your backpack or purse, because experience has taught me that these tenacious little speed demons love dark human carryables. Of course, if you want an outdoor venue, you can just follow the food the trail to the bushes surrounding the seating area of the famed Shake Shack in Madison Square Park, where it often seems that the branches move by themselves through unseen arboreal puppet master (until you see that they also have eyes and tails lurking inside!).
For me though, nothing beats a good rat. Every time I see one I feel a release of joy in my heart (and sometimes in my pants if they jump out close enough). No matter what you think though, New Yorkers better get used to these furry friends because some of the last estimates from health organizations have placed the numbers at approximately 8 per person or over 70 million rats on Manhattan alone!
Can you say cheese?
For some ratty videos in nyc, visit:
Rats take over NYC Taco Bell:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=su0U37w2tws&feature=player_embedded
Rats in Boston and NYC:
http://www.metacafe.com/watch/432721/rats_taking_over_boston_and_new_york_city/
Rats in the subway havin’ a good time:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wgVATc3P7ac
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