When we lived in Tarrytown, a neighborhood with dense vegetation and old
houses, we had rats. Every evening we enjoyed watching one fat, fluffy specimen
as it gorged itself in our birdfeeder. When it showed up a few weeks later with
its fuzzy babies we were as delighted as if we were watching a family of
dolphins. Then the babies grew bigger and lost their puckish charm. They got
mangier and meaner, fighting over bird seed and glaring at us if the feeder was
empty. They stayed up all night throwing parties in the attic directly above
our bed. They ate through electric wires, phone lines, and a box of Christmas
ornaments. When we pulled down the attic stairs, a torrent of tiny black
pellets rained down on our heads.
It was becoming difficult to find anything cute about these rodents,
especially since it became apparent the brothers and sisters were having sex.
(Rats begin breeding when they’re three months old, producing four to six
litters of up to a dozen little ones a year. Go ahead. Do the math on that
one.)
It was time to fight back. We tried humane traps, loud radios, moth balls, and
cat urine. We even tried to find ferret scent, which is rumored to send them
running. We plugged every hole we could find that was bigger than a rat’s shot
glass. (I’m pretty sure ours were heavy drinkers judging from the brawls.) They
continued to multiply. We finally, with heavy hearts, stooped to poison. It
worked and then we moved.
We now rent out the house and the rats have been back again and again. I’m
sick of the shame of having rats and I’m sick of the guilt of poisoning them.
I decided to look into ultrasonic sound devices, which emit sound frequencies
specific to the pest you’re trying to irritate. Testimonials ranged from “They
don’t work” to “one woman bought some for her garden and she says they’re
great” to “the only ones that work have an oscillating frequency.” They cost
$25-100.
In an attempt to find a unbiased opinion, I talked with Dr. Roger Gold, an
urban entomologist at Texas A&M. Having tested these devices for the
Federal Trade Commission and the Texas Attorney General’s Office, Gold flatly
stated they don’t work, at least not on his specialty, cockroaches. (I’m not
even going to get into the roaches in Tarrytown.) In fact, the attorney general
considers claims made by many manufacturers, who rake in more than $100 million
annually on ultrasonic, electromagnetic, or microvibrational devices, as
fraudulent. The trade commission, as well, is hot on their trail, but by the
time the government puts a case together, the company has folded only to
re-emerge under a different name a few months later.
But what about rodents? Gold suggested I call Dr. Bill Jackson, a retired
professor in Ohio. Jackson said ultrasonic devices should only be viewed as an
aid in rodent control, since the area they can “protect” is very limited and
that claims on packages are very exaggerated. “The first thing people should do
is decide why they have a rodent problem,” says Jackson. “Is it poor
sanitation? Great access? Don’t expect these problems to be cured by plugging
in one of these devices.”
That’s just fine, doctors, I wanted an easy answer and now I learn I have to
travel the rocky road of introspection to analyze my rodent problem. Do you
think it’s possible that rats are attracted to exces-sive guilt?
Can I guilt you into sending me more questions? (And those fan letters are
great, too!) Suzebe@aol.comor PO Box 49066, Austin, TX 78765.
This article appears in January 26 • 1996 and January 26 • 1996 (Cover).