Rat

HILLSIDE, N.J. -- Frank Balun lived a quiet life -- except for a stint as a B-25 gunner in World War II -- until the day last month when he trapped and killed the rat that was the prime suspect in raiding his little tomato patch here.For that crime, he was told, he could be sent to jail for six months and fined up to $1,250.Outrageous, public opinion said. Outrageous, public officials said as they rallied around the quiet 69-year-old grandfather.Yesterday the chief law-enforcement officer of Union County, Prosecutor Andrew K. Ruotolo Jr., told Hillside municipal prosecutor Christopher M. Howard to drop all charges against Mr. Balun, in effect absolving him of any wrongdoing.

Before the sun sets, rat No. 1 appears. Brown and beady-eyed, it skulks out of a ramshackle shed and onto a concrete trough. In the waning daylight, it drinks and washes in the rainwater, oblivious to the car that's pulled up a few feet away.Greg Gurri Glass surveys the scene from his 5-year-old Chevy and smiles. The steel mesh traps aren't even unloaded yet, and already the rats are out. His job tonight will be easier."This is a pretty amazing place when the sun goes down," he says, walking through the Reservoir Hill alley.

After years of frustrating failures, scientists have succeeded in cloning the laboratory rat, Rattus norvegicus. The feat - reported online yesterday in the journal Science - was hailed by scientists as a boon to medical research because the rat is the animal of choice for studying many human diseases, including hypertension, diabetes and heart disease. It also adds new glitz to the rat as a research tool. In labs, the rat has long been eclipsed by its cousin, the mouse, which has been a powerhouse for genetics research for decades and was one of the first mammals to be cloned, in 1998.

Health and sanitation workers have been battling for years to rid the city of rats, but in a back room at the Baltimore Zoo the goal is breeding them.The critter in question is not the garbage-gobbling, bald-tailed rat that scurries along alleyways.It is the endangered Eastern wood rat, a cave-dwelling species once common from southern New York to North Carolina, and west to Illinois and Kansas.This rodent has a hairy tail -- and a penchant for collecting bottle caps, which is why it is better known as the pack rat."

Yesterday, the ax fell.Sixty-eight city employees -- forty-five of the city's 114 housing inspectors and 23 geriatric-health workers -- were told yesterday they wouldn't have jobs as of Feb. 1 because of the loss of $1.7 million in federal money the state had pledged to the city.The layoffs hit two city programs, one aimed at curbing the rat population and another that provides temporary, at-home care for low-income elderly residents."From my point of view, it is a real shame because we are not only losing dedicated public servants, but we are also losing vital services for people who need them," said Robert W. Hearn, director of the Department of Housing and Community Development, which manages the anti-rat program.

A flulike illness, transmitted by animal urine and usually regarded as a rural threat, appears to be a common inner-city hazard, according to researchers at the Johns Hopkins School of Hygiene and Public Health.Writing in the journal Annals of Internal Medicine, the scientists described three severe cases of leptospirosis in Baltimore and found strong evidence that the victims were infected through cuts suffered in rat-infested alleys.A 1992 Baltimore study that revealed that many inner-city residents have developed antibodies from exposure to the bacteria.

Like most of his neighbors, Terry Smith takes precautions.He doesn't put his trash out until Thursday, the designated garbage day for his West Ostend Street house, he keeps his yard free of trash and dog feces, and he makes sure his dog Brandy's food bowl isn't left outside overnight.But, Smith, a public safety advocate for the Southwest Empowerment Zone, said rats still rule South Baltimore's streets.Gloria Morton has lived in the same house in Franklin Square for all of her 65 years. The Social Security Administration secretary said rats have always been a neighborhood problem, but conditions have worsened in the past five years.

Harold Edmond crouches in a Northwest Baltimore alley, getting a good look at the gaping hole in the trash-strewn back yard of a rowhouse, then scribbles "ARS" in his notepad -- "active rat sign." An hour later, after patrolling the rest of the alley, he returns to the squalid back yard and shoves two bags of Contrac brand rat pellets into a rat hole. A few bites of those poison pellets, and Edmond's enemy will bleed internally and die. Edmond, one of Baltimore's Rat Rubout crewmen, loves dead rats.

If another night of reheated leftovers sounds unappetizing, consider the menu on Pulau Tiga. The cast members of "Survivor," the part soap, part adventure game show shot on the Borneo island, dined on live larvae last week. The dish du jour for tonight's episode - airing at 8 p.m. on CBS - is rumored to be rat. The ick factor may be high, but so are the stakes. "Survivor" contestants vote weekly on which castaways get the boot, and the eventual winner pockets $1 million. Refusing a rat repast could be a factor.

Once a week, Gloria Morton places Alka Seltzer, mothballs and red pepper around her yard. She hopes they'll kill the rats.Her solution, as radical as it might seem, is the best she can do. "Wintertime is coming, and the rats are going to come right into our houses," Morton said.For the next three weeks, Morton and other Baltimore residents who belong to Baltimoreans Against Rats (BAR) plan to take further steps in a different place to combat the city's rat problem. They plan to rally at 6: 30 p.m. today in the 1400 block of Carroll St. in Pigtown.