XII.—RAT NESTS.
Rats are impartial in their building sites—they have contentedly built their nests in the wretched and filthy peasant's hovel and in the most palatial and luxurious residences of kings, and a human habitation must indeed be in the extreme of squalor, dirt and decay where they are not found sprawling. Shakespeare pithily expresses this in the "Tempest:"
"In few they hurried us aboard a bark,
Bore us some leagues to sea, where they prepar'd
A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd,
Nor tackle, sail nor mast—the very rats
Instinctively had quit it."
The rat living in a house prefers warm, soft quarters, and invariably gets within comfortable distances of stoves, ranges, heaters, steam-pipes, etc. This is a very dangerous habit, because his nest is always constructed of inflammable materials. At times he also lugs matches into it, and then if the steam-pipes should become overheated, the matches blaze up and spread the flames. We have read in the newspapers of a great many fires afterwards found to have been caused in this way. The rat's nest is made of black and colored silk, of linen, woolen and cotton materials, bits of canvas, dirty rags, fur, silk stockings, and antique lace of much value jumbled together with string and crumpled paper. In one instance we knew of a rat to make use of a building material more out of the ordinary run than these, as it consisted simply of fifteen hundred dollars in greenbacks that had been put under the carpet of a room for safe keeping, and which was afterwards found in mutilated fragments, thatched together, forming this queer old mercenary rat's abode. The rat uses his nest too as a storehouse, and here he lays by quantities of edibles for a rainy day. The writer came across a nest, once upon a time, the sole building materials of which were those undergarments, both masculine and feminine, fashioned so slenderly, but which we dare not mention. This nest contained a peck or so of beans, though in the house where it was built beans had not been stored nor used, the writer found out, for at least three months. Out of doors or in fields the rats' nests are built of hay, leaves, shavings, and wool. The rat is, besides his other praiseworthy qualities, an inveterate old thief, and in decorating his dwelling picturesquely he becomes quite lavish, as gold rings, diamonds, jewels of every value, and gold and silver watches, that had been missed, were found in rat nests. Here they were generally discovered set off with much taste by a piece of salt bag. In one rat's nest I found a set of false teeth in perfect condition. The rat could not have wanted to use them himself, because they were several sizes too big for him. He probably wanted them for a tool-box or jewel-case or some other equally useful object. The writer remembers reading in some odd book of a good-natured person who had discovered a family of young rats in a piano that stood in a room for some time unfrequented. They had made themselves so much at home in the interior of the instrument that the owner was unwilling to disturb them by playing upon it. The female rat probably wanted to get her young to some safe place away from her liege lord, and had succeeded in gnawing up through the leg of the piano. She had brought with her, in which to build a nest, a dirty striped stocking big enough to have belonged to some distinguished Dime Museum fat lady.