Rats have always had a bad press. When, around 60 years ago, our pet cat gifted my mother a dead rat and expected to be praised for his hunting skills, mum lost it completely, freaking out in a way that I never witnessed at any other point in her life. And when, in the 1932 film Taxi, James Cagney famously addressed Buck Gerrard as “you dirty yellow-bellied rat”, it was not a term of endearment! No one, it seems, thinks highly of rats.
This branch is just a metre above a bird table. Within seconds of this photo being taken, the rat was down and snacking enthusiastically.
Just why is it that rats are so widely loathed and feared? Their perceived connection with disease has a lot to do with it. Rats have long been associated with plague, their fleas being held responsible for the spread of the Black Death that wiped out one third of Europe’s population in the mid-14th century. Except it’s not true, as recent research has shown. The Black Death was mostly spread by human lice and fleas. So if any species deserves to be loathed and feared because of the ravages of the plague, it is presumably us and not the poor old rat!
Rats are also associated with filth – witness Cagney’s reference to a dirty rat. Wrong again! The rat is by instinct a clean critter, and will immediately start to groom itself if its fur gets dirty. Of course, some of the places in which rats hang out are themselves dirty – sewers, rubbish dumps and so on. But hey, we’ve all got to live somewhere, and at least – just like cats – rats work hard to keep themselves clean.
The James Cagney quote also implies that rats are mean, callous animals. But this too is a misconception: research has shown that rats demonstrate emotional intelligence, and are strongly supportive of one another within their social groups.
Historically, rats have also been feared for the threat they pose to human food stocks, particularly grain stores. In the famous German folk-tale, the Pied Piper of Hamelin was hired to deal with just this problem. It is a conflict of interests that is probably less of an issue today thanks to modern bio-secure storage systems, although admittedly that may well not be true in the developing world.
And if rats move on from our grain stores to dine out instead on the take-away food that our species carelessly throws away in the streets, so be it. The solution is simple: don’t buy what you can’t eat, but if you get this wrong then at least dispose of your unwanted fries or burger or kebab somewhere that wandering rats can’t get at it. Scavenging behaviour amongst rats is for them a matter of survival; thoughtless littering by members of our own species is simply a matter of lazy selfishness.
With human food stores no longer available to them, some rats now turn to bird food. The only rats I ever see are grazing on or around bird tables and feeders, nibbling enthusiastically upon the food people have left out for their avian friends. Mrs P’s photos clearly illustrate this behaviour. It upsets some birders, but I regard it as a privilege to be able briefly study an animal that is otherwise largely hidden from me. The rats don’t hang around for long, and the birds are soon back. Everyone’s a winner.
Away from the bird table it is true that rats can be a threat to birds, disturbing nests, driving away parent birds and predating eggs and chicks. The problem is most serious on islands with no history of rodents. On such islands, if rats arrive and become established – normally thanks to the folly of humankind – the effect on seabird colonies can be devastating. In such circumstances the only way to save the birds is to eradicate the rats, a project that is lengthy, laborious and expensive. It can be done, however, as was demonstrated when invasive rats – which had arrived as stowaways on ships – were finally eradicated from Lundy, a small island off the Devon coast in the south of England.
Although their effect on bird colonies cannot be denied, rats can also be beneficial to wildlife. The African Giant Pouched Rat, which is native to the savannahs of southern Africa, can be trained to assist in the prevention of wildlife crime by using its acute sense of smell to detect smuggled ivory, rhino horn and pangolin scales. Cheaper to train than sniffer dogs, and able to operate in spaces that are inaccessible to canines, these so-called “hero rats” are an important new weapon in the war for wildlife. They have also been used elsewhere in other innovative ways, including the detection of landmines and tuberculosis pathogens.
Rats are intelligent animals, more complex than they appear at first glance. They will always be controversial. I hate the devastation they cause in some island seabirds colonies, and accept that their presence in our well-ordered 21st century lives may sometimes be unsettling. But the rats are only doing what comes naturally for them, and from an evolutionary perspective they are doing it rather well. Overall, I would suggest, they are not nearly as bad as popular culture and urban myth would have us believe. And so, ladies and gentlemen, let’s hear it for rats!
Andy Warhol is said to have observed that in the future everyone will be famous for 15 minutes. By extension it might be argued that everywhere will be famous too, that each and every place under the sun will become well-known for something, albeit in most cases something rather insignificant. Chesterfield, for example, is famous for the crooked spire that graces its medieval church, but for little else.
Chesterfield, for the uninitiated, is a town in the north of my home county of Derbyshire. Home to around 100,000 people, for the most part it’s a pleasant though unremarkable place. The coal industry that once dominated the landscape and economy of this part of Derbyshire is all gone now, and today Chesterfield’s role is primarily as a service centre for the surrounding area.
Bizarrely, just as I was about to start writing this post, a news report popped up in my inbox declaring that, according to a recent survey, Chesterfield is the happiest place to live in the whole of the English East Midlands. Really? I worked there for a couple of years in the late 1980s and don’t recall it being unusually joyful. But maybe the outbreak of local happiness coincided with my departure? Sounds plausible!
Reading the newspaper report more closely, I see that even some of the local residents query the accuracy of this accolade. Objectively, I suspect most unbiased observers would regard Chesterfield as memorably unmemorable, were it not for the iconic architectural imperfection otherwise known as the parish church of St Mary and All Saints.
Completed around the year 1360, St Mary’s and All Saints is Derbyshire’s largest church. It’s famed for its unusual crooked spire, which leans 9 feet 5 inches (nearly 3 metres) from true. To be clear, this is not an eccentrically flamboyant design statement…the spire is meant to point straight up, like every other church spire in the known universe.
So what went wrong? The traditional explanation is that it was built with green, unseasoned timbers, which warped over time. But that can’t be it. Builders in the Middle Ages were accustomed to using used green timber, and would have made allowances to cope with it.
A more convincing explanation is that the spire’s 32 tonnes of lead tiles were simply too heavy. According to this theory the sheer weight of the tiles, combined with the failure to use cross-bracing, caused the spire to twist and lean alarmingly.
The omission of cross-bracing has been blamed on the Black Death, a plague that swept through the country between 1348 and 1350. If the experienced craftsmen working on the new Chesterfield church were killed by the disease, the spire may have been finished by unskilled builders to whom the concept of cross-bracing was totally unknown.
Accurate though this explanation may be, it’s disappointingly boring. Unsurprisingly, local folklore offers some more entertaining possibilities. One of these tells that the Devil was resting on the spire, where he was able to keep his balance only by wrapping his tail around it. However the smell of holy incense from inside the church offended him so much that he sneezed violently, jerking his tail in the process and causing the spire to twist.
A second explanation also blames the Devil. Old Nick was resting up on the church spire, his tail tightly wrapped around it while planning mischief and mayhem. In fear for the souls of his fellow townsfolk, one brave man rushed to the church, determined to warn everyone by ringing the church bells. The din was cacophonous. Taken totally by surprise, a shocked Devil lost his balance and toppled from the spire, twisting it as he plunged to the ground.
A third local legend once again points the finger of suspicion at the Devil According to this story, Satan was resting on the spire, tail wrapped round it in the now familiar manner. Looking below, he noticed a wedding about to take place in the church. On closer inspection he realised that the bride was a virgin, an occurrence so surprising in Chesterfield that he fainted from shock. As the unconscious Devil hurtled towards the ground his tail, still wrapped around the spire, twisted it into its current shape.
The fourth theory lets the Devil off the hook, and instead puts the blame squarely on the healthy sexual appetite of Chesterfield residents. According to this version, a virgin got married in St Mary’s, and the church itself was so surprised that its spire turned around to get a better look at such a rare specimen. The legend continues that if another virgin ever marries in the church, the spire will return to its original form again. Don’t hold your breath, folks!
Further explanations for the origin of Chesterfield’s crooked spire are available if you care to look, most of them involving the Devil or unexpected virgins. A definitive, agreed version, doesn’t seem likely to emerge any time soon. However, one thing is beyond dispute: the locals have taken this quirky architectural blunder to their hearts.
For example the local professional soccer team, Chesterfield Town FC, are known to fans as the Spireites, while over the years various local businesses have referred to the crooked spire in their branding and promotions. And who can blame them? Chesterfield’s crooked spire is a spectacular sight, and ensures that an otherwise rather unexceptional town enjoys its 15 minutes of fame. Andy Warhol would be impressed.
Derby is obsessed with rams. The city centre boasts at least three statues featuring rams. The local professional soccer team (Derby County) are nicknamed “The Rams” and have a mascot called Rammie. Derby’s annual half-marathon event was for many years known as the Ramathon. Even the city’s library service, when first introducing public internet computers in the late 1990s, called its new service Cyber-RAM.
Michael Pegler’s millstone sculpture has been a Derby landmark since 1995
This infatuation with rams (male sheep, also known as tups) is captured in a folk song known as The Derby Ram, or alternatively As I was Going to Derby. The story it tells can be traced back at least to the early 18th century. It’s a far-fetched and humorous, if somewhat gory, account of a huge ram taken to Derby market and the challenges townsfolk encountered when processing it for meat.
The song is well known in folk-singing circles in many parts of the English-speaking world. Even George Washington is reputed to have taken time off from thrashing the Brits to belt out his own rendition, although I’m not sure how we know this story is true. Links to a couple of recordings of the song are given at the end of this post.
How this tall tale came to be associated with Derby is unclear. More widely, however, during the Middle Ages rams were regarded as symbols of physical strength and sexual potency. It therefore takes no stretch of the imagination to understand why Derby folk might have been pleased to encourage a legend that linked them with such a feisty and formidable beast.
This statue by Tim Roper dates from 2019, and stands at one of the entrances to the main Derby shopping centre (mall)
The link continues to this day, and is being celebrated during summer 2021 by an arts project called The Derby Ram Trail. Organised by the local Museums Trust, this is a free public art trail comprising 30 ram sculptures vibrantly decorated by a range of artists.
The sculptures are made of lightweight, fire-resistant fibreglass and are based on Michael Pegler’s millstone ram, which has been a Derby landmark for around a quarter of a century. The trail weaves its way through the city centre, and its organisers hope it will “[encourage] local people to explore and enjoy their city from an exciting new perspective.”
Rameses by Judith Berrill
The Derby Ram Trail website explains how the project has been organised:
Businesses across the area were invited to sponsor a blank ram sculpture – the 3D canvas! New and established artists were then invited to submit designs to transform the blank rams with individual artworks. Design ideas were presented to sponsors in January 2020 who each selected their favourite. Successful artists were then commissioned to apply their designs to the sculptures in a wide range of media, both traditional and new, including fine art, illustration, graffiti and mosaic amongst others.
Forming a trail of discovery, the sculptures provide an exceptional, creative opportunity to engage people in important topics – from health and well-being to history and culture, to name a few.
Source: Derby Ram Trail website, retrieved 13 July 2021
For those with good local knowledge, the subject matter of some of the designs has an obvious connection with Derby or the surrounding county of Derbyshire. For example, decorating a ram to reflect artistic fashions current at the time the Egyptian Pharaoh Rameses the Great, over 3,000 years ago, isn’t an obvious choice. However, once you understand that generations of local children have been inspired by two ancient Egyptian mummies displayed at Derby Museum and Art Gallery, all becomes clear. Rameses is one of my favourite rams, and the pun’s pretty good, too!
Sitting opposite Derby’s Council House, Nurse Nightingale by Elaine Lim-Newton celebrates local 19th century nursing pioneer Florence Nightingale
Another striking design with local connections is Royal Ram, inspired by one of Royal Crown Derby’s decorative animal paperweights. Royal Crown Derby pottery is made about a mile south of the city centre, and is sold to appreciative collectors across the world. Local heritage is also recognised in Nurse Nightingale, which honours the life and achievements of pioneering 19th century nurse Florence Nightingale, who was born just a few miles north of Derby. And standing outside the new Museum of Making, housed in the historic Silk Mill building, Derby Industries celebrates the city’s remarkable achievements in science and manufacturing.
Royal Ram by Donna Newman
The significance of For Those About to Rock initially escaped me, until I read on the trail’s website that the piece was inspired by music festivals held annually in Derbyshire, particularly Download and Bloodstock. The website explains that “in the Heavy Metal tradition of battle jackets, the ram is wearing a denim jacket covered in patches which, along with his tattoos, represent significant events and Derbyshire-related subjects.” By way of contrast, Woolly Rammy (a ram in sheep’s clothing) has a more obvious local connection, depicting a ram wearing a Derby-inspired woolly jumper which proudly displays a recognisably local street scene.
For Those about to Rock by Sue Hetfield
Doodle Derby is a bit more whimsical, being “based on all of the awesome things about our city from architecture, culture and outdoor spaces to real ale and how Derby first invented the hotdog! ‘Doodle Derby’ takes you on a tour of all the brilliant things you can do in the city and celebrates a diverse, colourful place of happiness and positivity – an inspiring Derby!” Hmm, hyperbole is alive and well, and living on the Derby Ram Trail website…but what the heck, it raises a smile, and don’t we all need that with Covid infections soaring yet again.
Detail from Woolly Rammy‘s back
Woolly Rammy (a ram in sheep’s clothing), by Rebecca Morledge, sits close toSt Peter’s Church and depicts a local Derby street scene
In some cases the connection between Derby and the ram’s design is distinctly tenuous. For example, Derby has no obvious links with pirates (some people claim it to be further from the sea than just about any other English city), but nevertheless Pirate Sheepmate seems to have made himself at home there. I love the parrot on his shoulder. Meanwhile the fierce-looking Rambo seems to be little more than an excuse for fond memories of “Sly” Stallone….and, of course, another groan-inducing pun!
Rambo by Joy Pirkle
Some of the rams are intended to convey a message that has universal relevance, rather than being specific to Derby. Memories Fade but Warmth Remains is perhaps the most obvious and poignant of these. The website explains that the artist “has combined the symbolism of the forget-me-not flower – a flower often associated with dementia – with that of the sunflower, symbolising warmth, deep loyalty and hope. Lynne wanted to create a message about the power of enduring love: that memories can fade but the warmth of the human spirit continues to shine.”
The piratical Sheepmate by Reilly Creative is a lot of fun, but has no obvious connection with landlocked Derby
Walking the trail, which at a leisurely pace took us about half a day and included plenty of photo stops (Mrs P took over 400 pictures!), encouraged us to explore parts of the city centre that we’ve never seen before. It also took us past recent developments that are seeking to breathe new life into the place. Plenty of other people were also seeking out the rams, and I suspect were also discovering parts of Derby that were new to them.
Derby Industries by Sanita Gnaniah, with the historic Silk Mill behind
The organisers set out to create a feel-good project, and from my point of view they definitely succeeded. Derby is not an especially attractive city, and has little to recommend it in either architectural or artistic terms. The decorated rams are therefore a welcome – albeit temporary – addition to the urban landscape, and certainly brighten up those parts of the city centre in which they are located.
Doodle Derby by Carla Dee
With one exception – an old guy complaining (wrongly) that the cost of the project would result in his taxes going up – everyone we spoke with seemed to be enjoying the Derby Ram Trail, and found at least some of the artworks to be inspiring and uplifting. Perhaps the most pleasing aspect of the whole experience was the way the trail encouraged total strangers to talk to each other, and, even more remarkably, got them talking about art! That’s an achievement in which the organisers should take pride.
Memories Fade but Warmth Remains by Lynne Hollingsworth
The sculpture trail will grace the city until 22 August 2021, after which the rams will all be herded together and sold by auction. The proceeds will go to Derby Museums Trust to support the delivery and development of their services, which seems like an appropriate reward for the organisation that was the brains behind the Derby Ram Trail. Moreover, Derby is planning an application to be the UK’s next city of culture, so its heritage and arts organisations need all the funds they can raise. Watch this space!
Mrs P’s collage of rams!
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Links to recordings of The Derby Ram. The following link is to a version credited to Keith Kendrick, Pete Castle, Roy Harris and Derrick Hale. I’m not familiar with them, but must be from hereabouts as they’re singing it in a Derby/Derbyshire accent, which although quite distinctive is barely recognised outside the area. You don’t hear the accent so much these days, so it’s good to have fragments of it preserved here.
The YouTube video includes the lyrics. As with all folksongs the words to The Derby Ram have mutated over the generations, and this version is a case in point. The mention of the Baseball Ground (at around two-and-a-half minutes into the song) references Derby County’s home soccer ground between 1895 and 1997. It could never have appeared in the original, traditional (18th century) version of this song, and doesn’t belong in 21st century versions either.
While Keith Kendrick et al sing The Derby Ram unaccompanied, most recorded versions feature instruments as well as voices. If a capella and the Derby/Derbyshire accent are not your thing, the following version by Barry Dransfield may suit you better. Dransfield, who hails from Yorkshire, sings somewhat different lyrics, and plays a mean, mean fiddle! Enjoy!
Now I'm 64 