Little of that has changed during the past half-century since Earl, Fuz and I suffered an adolescent phase of reconnoitering those unexplored mists at Clover Point. When I moved to the Spring Ridge neighborhood I brought my Daisey pump gun, and Earl had a Red Ryder thousand shot air rifle. I cannot recall the make or model of the weapon Fuzz wielded, but I'm sure it was up to the task of hunting rats. In those days all big naval guns had been removed from the concrete pill box bunkers at the Point where a great foul oozing viscosity of sewage poured forth upon which dined all variety of creatures big and small, including the largest infestation of rats this side of Warf Street. Or even Vancouver.
Black rats like to live up high.
Earl told the neighborhood later. I failed to count the days we played that particular game, but the activity forced us to stock up with more BB's once or twice, and most certainly I'll never forget the day the routine soured. Perhaps it was only fatigue, possibly we hallucinated, having watched King Kong and The Wolf Man once too many times down at the Atlas, Dominion or Plaza. I saw extraneous movement. Rising from the shadows and bulk of pulsating furry bodies, I became aware of a glowing apparition so grossly horrifying as to numb the senses.