If you Google “muskrat,” you immediately learn a very interesting tidbit. Did you know that Ondatra zibethicus is the only species in genus Ondatra? The only one! Who would have thunk?
Once your mind has adjusted to this startling revelation, scroll down a bit more. That’s where the world’s leading search engine gets real. The sterile veil of science is torn away to reveal what people are really contemplating when they’re inquiring about muskrats:
- Are muskrats dangerous?
- Will muskrats attack humans?
- Are muskrats aggressive?
- Is a muskrat a rat?
I don’t need a degree in biology, with a specialization in the genus Ordata, to answer each of those questions with a solid yes.
Case Study #1
Walking the banks of a calm spring creek is as much hunting as it is fishing. Every move is deliberate. Each stimulus requires processing. These trout have an abundance of real food, and they can analyze your synthetic offering through gin clear water.
This makes falling into a muskrat hole, which was otherwise obscured by stream side vegetation, a real kick in the pants. Chances are you’ll yell. Your fly is going to get stuck on something. The trout are going to be spooked. Best case scenario all that happens is you end up covered in mud. Worst case, you break multiple bones in your leg.
Case Study #2
Sight fishing is a real thrill. In some ways, it is easier than casting blindly towards likely holding spots. However, maintaining your composure while watching the whole process unfold can up the difficulty. As rewarding as a spontaneous fish on! moment is, seeing the tail flick and the ascension leading to a rise is magical.
That magic disappears in that hole, along with a number of adjacent riffles, runs, and pools, immediately after a muskrat swims through. Muskrats eat fish. Thus, they put fish down. They also have no problem just spooking the mess out of a pool’s worth of trout as they muskrat their way from point A to point B. And all you can do is watch.
Case Study #3
Jaws is scary-looking. But I’ve never had a giant shark come after me. So I’m just assuming.
What is straight up pee-a-little-in-your-waders scary is when a muskrat is swimming towards you, undeterred by shouting and rod flailing, just to submerge itself a few feet away. They’ve got big pointy teeth! GoreTex is not pointy teeth-proof.
“It’s more scared of you than you are of it.”
Baloney. It’s a big, wet rat that only knows chew chew chew. They could sever an artery and drag your weakened body into their burrow for who knows what. Oh, and ever hear of the plague?
Muskrats are not the friend of the fly fisher. Muskrats are not the friend of anyone.
As you may have gathered, I don’t care for muskrats. Perhaps you do. That’s fine. And for you, I have an idea:
You ought to show your love for them through celebrating their delightfully buggy hairs. I’m sure the muskrats would appreciate the gesture.
Something must have happened recently – I’d love to hear the story… Meanwhile, I got one.
Fishing a stream when I heard a loud ker-plunk and saw remnant’s of a good sized splash. Couldn’t figure it out. Happened a few more times and although the area was isolated figured kids were tossing softball sized boulders into the creek to scare me. I started hollering that I didn’t think it was funny. While looking around I spot something swimming towards me… It was a beaver! When he got a little closer he smacked his tail on the water, submerged and swam away. I think it was territorial and he wanted me gone!
Scared the crap outta me. His tactics worked and I skedaddled.
Another time I was wade fishing out of Veteran’s Park in the Keys and this shark…. Ah that’s different story and I’ll save it for later:)
Bob, if non-anglers only knew the dare and peril of fly fishing…
Muskrats do provide one important role for flyfishers. Before synthetic materials, muskrat underfur offered a superior dubbing for dry flies. I still use it for parachute Adams and several other patterns.
I do agree, however, hidden muskrat holes can be downright dangerous.
Speaking of beavers, I was once standing in thigh deep water when I noticed a beaver swimming toward me. I stood still while wondering if it would divert its course. As it brushed against my leg, I thought about reaching down to touch it. Fortunately I remembered that those teeth can gnaw down some very large trees. Good judgement prevailed and I still have all of my fingers to dub some muskrat fur on my next Adams.
Thanks for the great blog.
Bill Love
Sandpoint, Idaho
And the only way to get muskrat fur? 🙂
Glad you didn’t lose a finger or two, Bill.