I Hate Rats.

I hate rats.

Toward the back of grandpa’s farm there was an old house. I have no idea who ever lived in it but by this time, a couple walls were knocked out of it and there was a tractor parked inside. But, the porch was still intact.

The old house was near the grain dryer with the porch pointing toward the dryer.

Under the porch is where the rats lived. They would sneak out to the grain dryer and fill up on corn, then head back with their cheeks packed full for the rest of the rats.

It was kind of dark under there but when you shine a flashlight at them, their eyes glowed like little devils. Just waiting for a stupid kid to crawl in so they could eat them too.

Well, we didn’t climb in. instead, when the eyes lit up, we’d shoot them with our BB guns.

That’s my first rat memory.

Then, I remember working at a local chicken farm. We took out the old chickens, I think they sold them to Campbell’s Soup company, then brought in the new ones.

The floor of the coop was raised about five feet so all the manure could fall down below. There were several chickens that had gotten loose and were running around free underneath with the droppings. So, we had to go in there to get them. Before we went under, they told me to put these rubber bands around my…