I assume you’ve heard of the Pied Piper of Hamlin.  An entrepreneurial sort of man with a certain skill with wind instruments.  You might remember how he used the power of his music to escort all the mice and children…(gulp) out of Hamlin.

But you might not have heard about the Piper’s modern day equivalent…Sir Orville of Qinghai, The Last of the Great Rat-Slayers.

Sir Orville (whose name has been changed in order to protect him from animal rights activists everywhere) was but a simple farmer living with his family along the dusty shores of the Yellow River.  Upon returning from a journey to a far-off land, Sir Orville found his humble estate had been besieged by a band of pesky rodents.

These roguish rodents, i.e. rats, had wasted no time in raiding Orville’s pantry and storehouses.  Orville’s lovely wife, Lady Bethesda, was not amused to find her tupperware marred with toothmarks and her kitchen countertops slathered in fecal matter (as you might imagine!)

A peaceful man by nature, Sir Orville was thus forced to take up arms to protect his family and livelihood.  With wooden spoons unsheathed, Sir Orville sallied forth in his speedy assault on the whiskered invaders.  With the help of his brave sons, Nevinicus the Crafty Calgarian and Matthias of the Maple Leaf, Sir Orville set out on his campaign to rid his estate of these cheese-eating barbarians.

But the hordes of furry adversaries were not easily defeated.  The clever, beady-eyed raiders hid in holes, rafters, rooftops, and even oft-used kitchen appliances.  As legend has it, mercenaries from as far away as Cape Horn and Wales were enlisted to take part in these epic battles against the mice.

With each passing month, Sir Orville and his band of fighting men saw more and more corpses added to the pile of fallen rats.  The gray crawlers died by drowning, sticking, and thumping.  In one day, if tales can be believed, seven fell to the hands of the Great Rat-Slayers.

And on the Eve of the celebration of Christ’ Resurrection, at high noon, the last battle was fought.  Sir Orville and his family were dining with some pilgrims whom they had welcomed to lodge with them.  As their respite drew to a close and turned to pleasant conversation, the Great Rat leader unexpectedly sprang from her (his?) lair and up the wall.  In the long weeks of fighting the Beast must have been cornered and suddenly smoked out of her hiding place.  At first it seemed that she sought flight, but perhaps she only wanted to fight from higher ground.  But as Sir Orville scrambled for his weapon, the Great Rat fell to earth with a sickening THUD.  Before a charge could be mustered, the Great Rat had fled back into her hidden cave.

Tables were jostled, children and women (except for the brave Lady Bethesda) were ushered from the hall, the instruments of warfare were gathered (spoons, spatulas, fly-swatters, and sticks); Sir Orville and his merry band of warriors were eager to take on this nefarious foe from the Underworld.

Drawing out the frightened (if formidable) leader of the Rats was no small task.  Like a bloated dragon protectively perched upon her gold, the Great Rat had squeezed herself behind cabinetry and plaster–hunkering down for the perfect opportunity to attack.  As sparks fly from fire, the rapid snake like tail of the Beast darted to and fro from behind perch and crevice.

Try as he might Sir Orville and his men (and woman, with apologies to Lady Bethesda) could not lure the Beast from his refuge.  At one point the ever-valiant Nevinicus the Crafty Calgarian created a diversion by rattling the cabinetry and raising a Celtic warcry.  This clever ruse had the desired effect–scaring the enemy out of hiding into the open, when suddenly…

WHACK!!!

A twitching gray form lay at the end of Sir Orville’s lethal paddle.  Another enemy crosses the rainbow bridge to Valhalla.

But, alas, our tale is not finished!  This twas only a small messenger mouse, likely a scout, dispatched or driven to madness at the face of such daunting opposition.  The Great Rat was still in hiding, planning her final counter-attack.

But Sir Orville, cunning strategist that he was, had already organized his parlay and would not give The Great Rat the upper hand.  With the help of a white-knuckled pilgrim (who could barely keep from raising his skirt, jumping on the kitchen table, and screaming soprano like a woman) and his stout-hearted family, Sir Orville unfolded his plan to open the battle field and flush the Rat from her hole.

What happened next is hard for the human mind to fathom.  For centuries afterwards, grandfathers have passed this story on to their grandchildren as they have tucked them into bed at night.   It is hard to separate fact from fiction when it comes to the Last Stand of the Great Rat-Slayer.  But if the questionably objective narrative of the white-knuckled pilgrim can be believed the conclusion of our tale happened this way:

Sir Orville had ordered his men (and woman) to block off all exits to the Great Rat’s lair.  The deviant rodent was essentially trapped–with only one path of escape.  With the help of alchemy, screwdrivers, long pieces of flooring tile, and flashlights, Sir Orville had hemmed his enemy in.  The only way out was directly through Sir Orville and his twirling long-handled wooden spoons of death.  Sir Orville, himself, had decided to run the gauntlet with this massive scurried-legged foe.

The band braced themselves.  Sir Orville shared a few encouraging words (especially to the pilgrim whose knees were now knocking) and a silent prayer.  On Sir Orville’s command, the heroic band heaved and shifted the cabinetry aside–forcing the Great Rat from her hidden haven.  In a split second the battlefield became a blur of gray fur, gnawing teeth, swirling worm tails, and clawing feet. 

But instead of one Great Rat, there were TWO rodent raiders charging at break-neck speed directly towards Sir Orville!  Overcome by this shocking new predicament his troops froze in their places.  There wasn’t even time to come to Orville’s aid.  Would he be run down?  Would this be the final song ever sung of Sir Orville of Qinghai?  Could anyone survive such overwhelming odds?  And then…

Whack!!!

Whack!!!

In the time it takes to say Qinghaihua! (emphatically) the Great Rat and his offspring lay twitching, mortally wounded, breathing their last gasps.  A string of smoke rose from Sir Orville’s blazing spoons.  A little blood pooled on the floor.  Sir Orville had incurred not a scratch in the skirmish.  Wonder of wonders!  Sir Orville’s courage never wavered nor did his sure eye and hand.  With just two blows he had decimated two fierce enemies!  The Great Rat-Slayer had finally defeated the last of the rat brigands who had laid siege to his estate.

And, to this very day, if you talk to some of the locals who live along the dusty banks of the Yellow River in Qinghai, you might get them to nostalgically hum a few bars of the famous, "Ode to Orville", just one of many songs lauding Sir Orville’s amazing feats of bravery as he defended his home and family against the great Rat hordes.

But this is just one of the epic tales of the struggles of mice and men…and it is surely not the last.