Rats, Mice, & Snakes: The Peanut Butter Jar

The cracks in the rocks were a rat's apartment complex dream.

             Jake told me the following story about the rat that lived in the wall of his cabin for many months until it met its sudden and final demise. This particular story came before the rat’s passing – a tale which will be told later.

            Jake spent a couple of winters living in the cabin on Sheepshead Ridge above his Morrisonite workings. Spending a winter here is not a casual undertaking. If you are in the Morrisonite area when the weather turns bad in November, you will not be able to leave until March or April of the next year. You are isolated and alone for 4 or 5 months. The only way out would be to walk the 27 miles to the highway. There is no phone service, and no one is going to come and help you if you cut your finger or bring you water if you run out.

            Keeping your provisions safe from animals is one concern if you are going to be isolated for 4 or 5 months. In the beams under the roof of the cabin Jake had a metal 55 gallon drum lying on its side with the opening of the barrel out in the open air. Nothing could get into the barrel opening without jumping a few feet from another beam or hanging on to the slippery metal sides of the metal drum. Jake considered it a safe place to keep food supplies, including a large glass jar of peanut butter.

            In spring, Jake decided he would go to town for about a week to get supplies. A few days before he left, he opened the new jar of peanut butter, used a small amount, replaced the screw on lid, and put the jar back in the barrel. He came back a little over a week later loaded with goods, ready to be under long siege from daily mining activities.

Some rats prefer a more modern dwelling.

            He did not notice right away, but when he did it was with considerable confusion: There, in the center of the lip of the metal barrel, was an empty glass jar with the metal screw on lid lying next to it. It was not that the rat had somehow got into the peanut butter, but that there was no peanut butter in the jar at all. There was no peanut butter on the lid and none in the jar. The jar was clean. There were no smudges or streaks on the glass and no peanut butter footprints in the barrel. The jar shined and sparkled. It looked freshly washed, or rather: like it had never been used. It was pristine.

            The rat had devoured the entire contents of the jar and left the jar where he found it. There the glass jar sat, like a trophy or offering to the benevolent peanut butter god that had provided the rat with such a delectable treasure.

            Jake still has no explanation for how the rat got into the jar.

I surprised Jake with his dinner.