Frontier Rats - Quest for Ratopia

In a sunny meadow under an endless blue sky, insects buzz and zizz in the tall, waving grass and birds warble in the distant hedgerows. Uphrasia Teach, a young common brown rat lies on his back bathing in the sun, a thing rats love to do. He is slim with a long snout, smooth brown fur, dark tips to his ears and a dark tuft of hair in the middle of his forehead above his dark bushy eyebrows. With his paws behind his head and his eyes closed, he breathes softly. “Ah, this is the life. All this and as many fresh slugs as I can fit in my tummy. Pure paradise!”

The common brown rat (Rattus Norvegicus) is believed to have originated from Asia. They are the most successful mammal in the world after humans. There is a saying: “Wherever you are asleep or awake, there’s a common brown rat ten feet from your head!”

A voice nearby rudely awakens him back to reality. “Hey Uphrasia wake up! You’ve had your four hours already.”

Grumthorpe city is crowded with sooty skyscrapers and choking motorways that wind around under and over each other. Cars and trucks move slowly in long fume-belching queues making the atmosphere barely breathable. Smoking chimneys and factories share space with residential tower blocks. A constant grey cloud of smog hangs over this overcrowded city. You wouldn’t hang your washing out here. Beyond the city to the north, east and south is an endless wasteland. The soil is so barren that nothing grows save for a few hardy shrubs and weeds like dandelion, stinging nettle and thistle. To the west is the black dead forest that spreads out for about five miles and is then interrupted by more deserted wasteland.

Snow falls over the black hills and down into the forest valley where a granite quarry has been carved out to contain the old Grumthorpe municipal sewage plant. The gate is permanently open to a short drive that leads over to a flat roof with a stubby lookout tower sitting on the top. Most of its windows are boarded up with wooden planks. Lines of long copper pipes lead down from the plant to thirty round steaming filter beds. The pipes terminate over tanks of raw sewage which is pumped along metal arms that rotate and trickle the grey oozy liquid over the filter rocks below. What a stink! – like rotten eggs combined with the smelliest feet you’ve ever had the misfortune to smell. Underneath the sewage plant is a vast network of tunnels and passages that lead to long-abandoned cellars and storerooms. Lines of wooden pigeon-holes are precariously stacked from floor to ceiling with tiny ladders next to them. These are the rats’ sleeping quarters and because they only need a few hours’ sleep at a time they sleep in shifts. In one of these cramped little boxes Uphrasia yawns and puts on his grey cotton Space Corps tunic. The collar is frayed and there is a patch on one side. He stretches. “Is it time already? Can’t I have one more hour? I was having such a splendid dream.”

Another rat in a matching tunic pokes his head in. “You know the rules. Get up it’s my turn!”

Uphrasia scratches his tummy. “Back to the grind then.” He climbs out of the box as the other rat hops in and plumps the pillow. Uphrasia descends the ladder and joins a slow-moving queue of rats at the bottom of a long corridor. There are many types of rat in the line: brown and black rat, fancy rat, albino and the elite genetically bred tan-brown Zucker rats. They all look at the floor as they move forward a pace at a time. Uphrasia thinks to himself. “This is a far cry from the great Gorgonzola’s vision of Ratopia. I bet he’d turn in his cage if he could see how we live now.”

A short, tubby brown rat joins him, his tunic has lost a couple of buttons where his belly bulges. He has a short tuft of hair between his ears and two large front teeth. He smiles up at Uphrasia with beady black eyes and nudges him in the ribs. “Morning, face ache. Foraging day. Hey, hey!”

“Oh joy of joys, foraging. I suppose it’s better than a shift on the maggot farm. Morning Konrad.”

“Maggots! Oh I don’t like them. A nice hot slug that’s the ticket!”

“Well you’re in luck as slugs are on the menu today. They are on the menu every day. Except maggot Monday.”

The queue terminates in a large dilapidated kitchen full of chattering rats sitting at a miss-matched collection of paw-made tables. The walls are covered with white tiles and a huge extractor hood hangs from the ceiling. The din of the chattering rats is so loud everyone has to shout to be heard. Beneath a high white butler’s sink is a long makeshift counter covered in dishes of slugs, fried worms and boiled beetles. Uphrasia and Konrad each take a white yoghurt pot lid and move along the serving counter. A tall female dinner rat picks up a hot steaming brown slug with tongs and places it on Konrad’s lid. He looks up at her and frowns and she tilts her head to one side. “Is there something wrong young rat?”

“May I have another slug, please?”

The dinner rat forces a half smile picks up a clipboard flips over a page and reads out loud. “Konrad Konstantin! On diet rations. You have to lose six grams!”

Konrad’s shoulders drop and the sides of his mouth turn down. “Six whole grams! That’s half an average rat!” He moves along and another serving rat plonks a pile of crispy fried worms on his lid. Konrad sniffs them then trudges over to the end of a table and takes a seat.

Uphrasia moves up and the dinner rat places three plump slugs on his pot lid. He frowns and she folds her arms and scowls. “Too skinny!” Uphrasia squeezes into the space next to Konrad, then puts one of his slugs on Konrad’s lid.

“Thanks buddy. Are you sure?”

“Yeah, probably full of slug pellets anyway.”

Konrad picks up a slug and gulps it down in one mouthful. He is distracted by a noise from another table and looks over his shoulder. A group of tall sandy-brown Zucker rats in smart shiny silver uniforms are acting up. Uphrasia looks over. “Huh! Zucker rats! So-called elite cadets! Just because they were genetically bred to be fitter, smarter and faster than us doesn’t mean they are better than us.”

“Well, technically speaking it does.” Konrad chomps on the crispy worms.

The Zucker rat was specially bred by scientists for use in laboratories. They were genetically selected for their high intelligence and agility. They have short, light-tan fur which is very smooth.

A paper cup hits Uphrasia on the back of the head. “What the?!”

A tall, slim Zucker rat Roderick stands up. “Hey Uphrasia! What’s that perfume you’re wearing?! Is it ca-ca de Canal?!”

All the rats in the room laugh then a tall beefy Zucker rat Thompus joins in. “No, it’s odour de toilet! Ha-ha-ha!”

All the rats roll around laughing. Uphrasia stands up. “It’s a very old joke and not that funny!” He pats Konrad on the back. “Come on Konrad let’s get a head start on foraging.” Konrad stifles his own laughter gets up and follows him.

Grumthorpe Forest is a dark and gloomy place. Patches of thin, dry grass are interrupted by areas of barren, brown mud. All the trees are leafless and coated in black soot; some are hollow and house various forest dwellers. Bats hang upside down in the uppermost branches, blinking and scratching, waiting for sunset so they can begin their night hunting for airborne bugs. A barn owl glides silently on the wind, then darts out into a clearing and down into the waving grass. It rises up clutching a small vole in its talons, then flaps off into the trees and vanishes. Below the twisting roots of a great oak is a mound of soil excavated by badgers.

Six rats march in a line along the snow-covered path; at the back are Uphrasia and Konrad. They stop in front of a tall, stocky black rat: General Scrod. He is in his mid-fours with thick black fur and wears a smart, dark-green military jacket with shiny polished buttons. There are a few grey whiskers on his snout and he has dark steely eyes. The young rats chatter among themselves. Scrod frowns at them until they all go quiet. “Good evening cadets!” His breath makes puffs of vapour in the frosty air. “Welcome to my course in nature foraging. I am General Scrod!” He paces left and right in front of the group. “Some of you may be content with slug rations, sharing a bed with the unwashed and living in a sewer for the rest of your lives. But some of you, some of you may have a bigger idea! Adventure!” His wide eyes stare at them. “A life of exploration, danger and discovery!”

The black rat (Rattus rattus) came to our lands after stowing away aboard ships. Also known as the ship rat or old English rat, they are the fiercest and boldest of all the rats.

Scrod looks around the forest and holds out his paws. “The wilderness is a dangerous and challenging place, but it can provide you with all the food and shelter you need if you have the correct training. Now follow me and let’s see who has the aptitude for forest survival!” He turns abruptly, marches off and they follow in line. At the front and looking very keen is Rose, a fancy rat with several brown and black patches over clean white fur and two neat brown lines down her snout. She is a little taller than the other rats and has bright brown eyes with delicate lashes. She rubs her cold paws together and blows on them.

Fancy rats were bred to be pets, and, although they occasionally nip your finger, they are very tame and friendly to humans. They come in all sorts of colours with different patches and patterns. Their good nature makes them very popular with other rats.

Scrod reaches a fallen branch and the group gather round him in a semicircle as he tips it over, leans down and picks up a wriggling white grub. “Here we go. This is a common find under rotted wood or leaf mulch.” He bites it in half and shows it to them. Green gooey slime drips from its writhing body. “Anyone want to try?”

Rose covers her mouth. “Yuck!”

Konrad is about to step forward but Uphrasia holds out his paw and shakes his head.

“That bad huh?”

“Worse!”

Scrod shrugs and throws the rest of the grub up into the air, catches it in his mouth and chews. “Right, let’s move on. Split up into pairs and forage for an hour, then bring what you find back here for inspection. Off you go and remember, steer clear of humans!” Konrad raises his paw. Scrod scowls down at him. “Well speak up lad, what is it?”

“Sir, are there any dangerous predators in the forest?”

“Predators? No, nothing to worry yourself about young fella.” He pats Konrad on the head. “Nothing at all.” As the recruits disperse in pairs, Scrod scratches his chin. “Unless of course you count foxes or badgers, hawks, owls, stoats and weasels. Then there’s bats, polecats, three-toed sloths, bears, cougars, bandicoots, flibber gibbers and grottle flaggers! Come to think of it, I think I’ll hide out in that hollow tree over there until you all get back.” With that he scampers off towards a hollow tree and hops inside, then pokes his snout out through a hole.

The foragers climb up a slope, spread out and search through the undergrowth, tipping over logs and kicking up leaf litter. Rose has partnered up with a small, thin rat named Scout. He is also a fancy rat and has one single brown patch on his back with several smaller spots around his waist and a round patch over his left eye. He picks up a squirming centipede and frowns. “General Scr-Scrod is very sc-scary.” The centipede wriggles and writhes in his paw.

Rose smiles warmly. “He seems like a bit of a grump. I’m sure he has a soft side once you get to know him.”

Scout throws down the centipede and continues to search in the leaf mulch. “Well I wouldn’t want to get on his b-bad side, I can tell you.”

Rose picks up the end of a long, flat piece of tree bark. “Here, give me a paw.” Scout grabs the other end and they tip it over. Hundreds of woodlice and tiny beetles scurry about. Scout hops forward and grabs an enormous beetle. “Are you sure you can manage that?” Rose raises her eyebrows.

“Argh! Yes, I’m taking this back to the General.” He wrestles with the beetle.

Konrad kicks aside a pile of leaves then looks up at Uphrasia. “You’re not foraging?”

Uphrasia stands with his paws on his hips. “What’s the point? We’ll never get selected to go on a mission. Only those elite cadets get to go on an adventure. This is a total waste of my time. I’m going to visit Mother.”

Konrad’s jaw drops. “But what about sticking together, foraging, the General? He’ll get really mad!”

“It’s the Rat Way buddy.”

Konrad’s shoulders droop. “Every rat for himself.”

“You’ve got it. Now cover for me, I’ll see you later.” He saunters off leaving Konrad shaking his head.

Uphrasia puffs as he climbs the steep lane that curves around a bend rising up Weary Rodent Hill. The light is fading and the overhanging trees make the lane dark. An owl hoots in the distance and he stops to listen, sniffs the fresh, cool forest air, when he is sure all is safe he moves on up the slope. He slithers through a crack in the concrete kerb, into a cramped round tunnel that goes along level for about a foot then rises up steeply. The den is small and cosy, with a few crude sticks of furniture. A small fire burns in a hearth cut out of the clay wall. Overhead the roots of a tree have been woven together to make a strong ceiling and a single wooden beam keeps it all in place. The walls have been pounded hard as stone and covered with a fine floral wallpaper. A number of small framed pictures are hung with family images. In the centre hangs a large framed picture of Uphrasia as a baby rat on a beach sitting proudly next to a big sand castle in the shape of a giant wedge of cheese.

Uphrasia’s mother Margaret, a plump brown rat with grey whiskers, hums cheerfully to herself. She is wearing an apron and head scarf and is stirring a rusty paint tin filled with porridge oats over an old oil lamp. She speaks with a strong Scottish accent. “Is that you my dear? Sit down. I had a feeling you’d be arriving. No doubt you’re hungry.”

Uphrasia nuzzles her on the cheek and sits at the table made out of an old upturned Frisbee on legs, which is very handy as nothing ever spills on the floor. She places a wooden bowl of porridge in front of him and he shovels a big spoonful into his mouth with a wooden spoon. “You’re looking thin, my boy.” She strokes the tuft between his ears. “Are they feeding you properly at that dreadful establishment?”

He quickly wolfs down the porridge and nods. “Yes Mother, I’m eating just fine.”

She wrings her paws together. “I do worry about you at that ridiculous astro school. Promise me you won’t go off into space now. Will you promise me?”

He stands up and takes both her paws in his. “There is no chance of me going into space and you know that. I’m just not the type they are looking for.”

She dabs a tear from the corner of her eye with the tip of her apron. “I’m sorry to be such a ninny, but you are so like your father and you know what happened to him. Left me all alone to bring you up. Not a word or why-for!”

She dusts a wedding portrait of herself with his father, a broad-shouldered black rat with a long black beard, wearing a smart brown suit. Her tone turns gloomy. “Such a reckless fool, stowing away on that awful spaceship, never to be heard of again. Lost in space, probably dead for all I know.” She sobs into the apron. “Oh what will become of you Uphrasia?! If I was to lose you I don’t think my heart could stand it!”

Uphrasia puts his arm around her. “Mother don’t carry on so. Even if there is the slimmest chance of a mission, I’ll deliberately fail my astrophysics exam. Then they’ll never send me on a mission.”

She turns and hugs him, her voice back to a normal tone. “You’re such a good boy. I’m not holding you back am I? I’d hate to think I was holding you back. But when you look at our family history, you’d be wise to avoid travel and adventure.” She turns round and dusts off another portrait of a rat in a spacesuit, her voice goes back to the dark tone. “Great, great Uncle Ernie on the ill-fated Challenger mission. Burned to a crisp! Shocking!” The duster swipes another portrait of a rat in a captain’s uniform. “Then there was my great, great grandfather Cyril, ran away to sea on the Titanic, sunk by an iceberg, frozen like a Popsicle!” She wraps her paws around her arms and shudders. “Chilling!” She flicks her duster at a small oval-framed picture of a sailor rat with a long white beard and a T-shirt with blue and white horizontal stripes. “And our ancestor Oswaldo Teach!” She turns with her eyes wider even than before and her paws clasped together. “Sailed aboard the Marie Celeste! Who knows what horrors befell that ghostly, doomed crew. Doomed they were. Doomed!!!”

He hugs her tightly and frowns over her shoulder. “OK, OK. I’ll stay away from boats, ships, and spacecraft of any description. Don’t fret so Mother!”

She lets out a deep sigh. “Thank goodness one of the Teach family has a tiny ounce of sense.” There is a loud bump overhead and some soil drops through the root ceiling above them. “Those darned neighbours are at it again!” She picks up a broom and bangs on the ceiling. “Cut it out you noisy rascals!” She puts down the broom. “The whole neighbourhood has gone downhill ever since those foxes moved in. Turning over dustbins and bringing home litter!” She takes a shawl from the coat rack and throws it around her shoulders. “I’ll walk you down the hill. No doubt you want to return to that awful school.”

“There’s no need Mother.”

“Awe shush. Tell that young rascal Konrad I’ll send you both some flapjack later on.”

The forest has become dark as the group of foraging rats gather together in a semicircle before General Scrod. He stands in front of them with his back straight and his snout up. “Now then, show and tell everyone. Let me see what you have all foraged!” They produce nuts, berries, bugs and worms. Scout struggles with the very large wriggling beetle he caught. He holds its back legs as it fights and flails around. Finally, it breaks loose and runs off down the slope. Scrod raises one eyebrow and turns his snout down towards Konrad. “Konrad, what have you foraged for us today?” Konrad looks left and right then holds out a pawful of spindly twigs. Rose sniggers. Scrod clears his throat and she stands bolt upright to attention. Then Scrod steps over to Konrad and juts his chin down at him. “Twigs?!”

“Yes sir. Twigs sir.” There is an uncomfortable silence. Konrad nibbles the end of a twig and raises both eyebrows innocently. “They’re quite tasty, if there’s nothing else around.”

Scrod straightens up. “And where is Uphrasia, your foraging partner?!”

Konrad purses his lips. “Uphrasia, um, he had a sore ankle, so, he ah...”

“He absconded!”

“Yes sir, he ah, ab-, what you said, sir.” Konrad looks at his feet.

Scrod clenches his paws and puts them on his hips. “Sounds to me like we have a couple of slackers in our unit.” The other rats giggle. “Right!” Konrad is startled and straightens up. “Tomorrow, I want you and your lazy friend to report to me here after evening rations for foraging detention!”

Konrad bows his head. “Yes sir.”

“Don’t be late! The rest of you, well done. You’ve each earned ten merit points plus extra supper rations.”

They all cheer and Rose punches the air. “Yes!”

Uphrasia enters the mess hall, collects his meal from the counter and takes his seat next to Konrad. There is a pile of twigs on the table in front of him. He nudges Konrad. “What’s this?”

“I can explain. You see...”

“Hey, Uphrasia!” Roderick is standing on his chair waving a stick around. “Do you want some kindling for a starter?!”

Thompus shouts out “How about some branch water to wash it down with?!” Once again the whole mess hall breaks out in laughter.

Uphrasia’s eyebrows point down in the middle. “Konrad! What’ve you done this time?!”

Konrad’s bottom lip quivers. “I’m sorry. I tried to explain.”

Roderick pipes up again, “What a pair of losers. Log on to the canteen website and see what twigs your interest!”

Thompus holds up a twig and waves it about. “Look at me! I like eating twigs!” All the rats in the mess hall roll around holding their tummies and laughing.

Roderick points the stick at Uphrasia. “You twig-eating morons won’t even pass the exam tomorrow! Why are you even here at astro school? You will never graduate! Stick nibblers!”

Uphrasia gets up to leave as the elite rats gather round him. Thompus chuckles. “Have fun foraging with Scrod tomorrow night. Mind you don’t eat the whole forest!”

Uphrasia slams his fist on the table. “I’ll pass the exam and I’ll show you all. You bunch of arrogant dimwits!”

He marches out of the hall, Roderick jeers. “You’ll never pass, stick nibbler. Never!”

Uphrasia strides along the corridor, head down and teeth gritted as the laughter fades. Konrad trots up behind him. “Wait up! I’m sorry about all that buddy.”

Uphrasia spins around, his face scrunched up with anger. “Don’t buddy me! You keep messing things up for me. You’re… holding me back!”

Konrad stands mouth open in shock. “Holding you back?”

“Just stay away from me!” He storms off.

“What do you mean I’m holding you back?”

Uphrasia stomps along the corridor and climbs up the dormitory ladder. He sits on his bed with his shoulders hunched holding a parcel with a note from his mother on it. It says “A little something for you and Konrad.”

Uphrasia stares at the wall and contemplates. “Oh, cat poo! Poor old Konrad, he’s not to blame for my situation. I’m just all out of options and it stinks!”