Rats Have Invaded My Balcony

I was set to have a bumper olive crop this year. When I came back from vacation in August to a mix of successes and failures on the balcony, my olive tree’s abundant fruits consoled me. Fast forward one month, and every single one of those olives has been eaten by rats.

Signs of rat activity around our apartment building started cropping up in June. At first, it was subtle. I would find decimated marigold flowers and a few chewed up olive pits in my planters. I suspected squirrels as much as rats.

But over the past few weeks, the rat population has exploded. Our cat, Dawn, realized the gravity of the situation before we did. She started staying up all night looking fixedly out the windows, sauntering into bed around 5 or 6 a.m. and sleeping like a rock all day.

The olives on the tree started to noticeably dwindle (thanks for nothing, oleuropein– seriously, what kind of sick animal eats RAW olives?!). A few nights ago, I was sitting in the living room and noticed the branches swinging around wildly outside; there was a rat CLIMBING THE TREE.

Rats exist.

This isn’t my first rodeo with rats. At our former house in El Cerrito, they made a nest in our heater, ate all my tomatoes, and made a disturbing habit of scurrying around our backyard even in the daytime. This summer, a country rat in Puglia taunted us mercilessly; one day we found it taking a dip in the dog’s water dish. I try not to take it personally; rats are just everywhere.

I’m not naturally averse to rodents. I think they’re cute. But unfortunately, when they invade my space, their existence is at odds with my existence. They spread disease and destroy the food and flowers I grow. And it’s not like rats are a native species playing a vital role in the ecosystem. I respect their struggle and will to live, but we simply cannot live together.

They didn’t only devour my olives and marigolds. They chomped the peppers I grew from seed, newly bought diascia and chamomile, and my lovely dahlia. Most disgusting of all, there are now trails of rat droppings behind my pots and in the corners of the balcony. I’m going to have to deep clean the whole thing if I ever want it to feel like my happy place again.

Ok, rats exist. Can we do anything about them?

In El Cerrito, due to a negligent landlord, we had to set traps. Every time I disposed of a rat corpse, I cried. Thankfully, the management at our current building is more responsive, and a pest control company has already come and placed bait around the property. 

If you’re a renter dealing with a rodent problem, please know it is your landlord’s responsibility to keep the property free of unsanitary vermin; you shouldn’t have to take it upon yourself to become a rat executioner.

But while you’re waiting for the pros to do their thing, you can try the following tactics to dissuade rats from ruining your garden:

• Essential oils. Many scents that humans find pleasant, like peppermint, tea tree, eucalyptus, and cinnamon, repel rats. I sprinkled drops of tea tree essential oil all around the perimeter of my balcony a few times, and it seemed to keep them away for a night or two. But then I ran out of tea tree oil.
• Figure out what plants they don’t like. This can be tricky because I swear those rascals change their minds. But they have left some of my plants completely alone: purple Thai basil and most Mediterranean herbs, and most of my perennials (rose, fuchsia, salvia, etc.). If you notice they’re feasting on one variety while leaving another alone, plant more of the latter.
• A cat. We adopted Dawn during our first rat crisis in El Cerrito, and while she’s turned out to be the love of our lives, she was also a smart investment, even though we keep her indoors. Apparently, in other units, rats have chewed through the window screens and gotten in. That ain’t happening to us, thanks to our little night watchwoman.

Some of the above might work, or it might not. Rats love to subvert expectations. Perhaps more importantly, you must adopt a certain mentality to overcome the fact that rats exist in your garden.

Rats (and other problems) exist: Accept it.

I have an inside joke with my husband where I come in from some gardening chore and say, “che palle, il giardinaggio.” Gardening is a pain. Literal translation: what balls, gardening.

The joke is that I obviously don’t think that at all. My husband knows how much my little garden means to me, but he gets it: sometimes, even the things we love break our balls. Especially when they get invaded by rats. But that doesn’t mean we should give up on them.

When faced with discouragement in the garden, I turn to Gardener’s World. If you’re not familiar with this masterpiece of British television, you’re missing out. 

Monty Don hosts the show from his vast garden, Longmeadow. Although it’s bigger and more beautiful than any garden I’ll ever have, his practical and poetic approach to tending it never fails to lift my spirits. And he’s got tons of problems.

On episode 24 of this year’s season, he covered a “horror story” of a huge pear tree totally destroyed by brown rot. The pears had all become hollow mushy mold monsters full of wasps. 

But he concluded the segment by saying, “It’s really important not to get hung up on problems in the garden. Gardening should be fun. It should be a creative act, whether you’re making pictures or a mood or even a whole world.“

Not only should I not get hung up on the rats, but it’s really important that I don’t. And I get what Monty means; if we let every gardening setback throw us into a pit of despair (full disclosure: I have been there), we wouldn’t keep gardening. And that would deprive us of the little world we’re creating, which, even if imperfect, is also important.

Don’t dwell on it

These days, when I go out onto the balcony, I usually find some rat havoc to huff and puff about. But I notice other things too; the California fuchsia blooms attracting the occasional hummingbird, the delicate bracts of ornamental oregano, the Genovese basil that bounced back after my vacation, the bay tree going strong. For every epic gardening fail, there’s usually at least one small success to celebrate.

And even if there weren’t, that’s okay: we can’t control nature. That’s what makes gardening such a unique, frustrating, and fun art form– it’s unpredictable! It’s all an experiment! If a thing doesn’t work, try something else. If rats eat all your olives, that’s one less DIY home curing project to worry about.

When you’re a container gardener in a small space, every pest or problem can feel catastrophic. Our potted plants often lack the resources to bounce back from disaster, and we don’t always have the biodiversity and microorganisms that keep larger gardens in balance. 

But we do have some advantages. For example, we can move pots around, wash them, and change out their contents easily, breaking disease cycles. When it comes to wildlife, while we can’t avoid critters that fly or climb, we are at least safe from the devastation wrought by larger chompers like deer and rabbits. 

On the occasion of the Autumn Equinox, I will dwell not on the annoying problems and infuriating pests but on the beautiful decadence of fall on the balcony. I’ll try to stay positive. As Monty Don would say, it’s really important.