In 2004, some giant rats, drawn by cans of rotting grain in the barn, swarmed over the farm. Even Rose wouldn’t go near them, and they lived in the stone wall by the barn. Some were huge, the size of small dogs, and even though I tried, I could not shoot them accurately with my .22.

A farmer brought me Mother and said she would help me out. She was just a year old, and seemed affectionate. One by one, the rats showed up at the back door, dead and dismembered. Some were the size of small racoons. After the got rid of the males, she went to work on the females, and then the babies. She would sit on the wall for hours waiting for one to venture out, and then there would be some shrieking and tussling, and then all was quiet. The rats piled up for days, even weeks, and then one day, there were no more rats, and very rarely, a mouse.

I suspect there will never be more rats, as long as Mother is around. She still appears easy going and affectionate, although I know better. And she still loves to hover at the top of the wall. Every time I take a photo of her, I think, this is the last thing the rats saw.