When Ilya Schwartzburg and his wife moved to Philadelphia from New York City, they were looking forward to lower housing costs, closer proximity to friends, and a shift from renting to homeownership.

But they expected that one of the more unpleasant aspects of urban life would remain constant.

“I thought I would have to deal with rats as a homeowner, and I was steeling myself for that reality,” Schwartzburg said. “I always learned to be leery of basements in the city.”

Since moving into Bella Vista 3½ years ago, the couple have been pleasantly surprised by the rarity of rat sightings — and there haven’t been any in their basement.

“In New York I commuted to Midtown, and I would see them every day — if not twice a day,” Schwartzburg said. “Sometimes waiting for the subway I would just zone out watching the rats. But I’ve never seen a rat run across my way on the sidewalk in Philadelphia. What is going on?”

Schwartzburg isn’t the only one surprised by Philadelphia’s seemingly low rat population.

Despite well-known problems with litter and illegal dumping — and historic lack of widespread street sweeping — many experts and most of the dozen residents interviewed for this story agreed that the city does not seem to struggle with the vermin to the same extent as its urban counterparts on the I-95 corridor.

Philadelphia logged fewer rat complaints per capita in 2024 than Baltimore; Boston; Washington, D.C.; and New York, according to data from the cities or from the annual RentHop rat report. Politicians here don’t make rat control a policy focus, as New York Mayor Eric Adams did, and rats aren’t a part of local discourse in the way they are in Washington, D.C., or Baltimore.

Micah Goldsberry, a Philly-area exterminator with nearly two decades experience, said he is still amazed by the relative rarity of rats.

“When people ask me what we deal with as far as rodents and when I tell them house mice are the winner, they’re shocked,” said Goldsberry, an operations manager for Ehrlich Pest Control, a Rentokil Terminix company, who works in Philadelphia, Bucks, and Montgomery Counties. “If we get 10 calls a day, one of them might be for rats.”

Philadelphia’s rat control program was nationally renowned in the 1970s and 1980s and is still held in high regard today despite decades of budget cuts. Other theories for Filthadelphia’s relative lack of the pests include fewer alleyways where trash accumulates, the prevalence of feral cat populations, and more containerized garbage than loose bags left on the sidewalk in some neighborhoods.

But no one, including the city’s Health Department, really knows why rats are less prevalent — or at least less visible and problematic — in the Philly region than in other major metropolitan areas.

“That’s something we’ve tried to ponder for many, many years,” said Goldsberry, the exterminator. “There is really no rhyme or reason.”

From rat bounties to poison pellets: Philly’s war on rats

Philadelphia has many of the conditions that usually breed a vibrant rat population, as is easily visible in South Philadelphia’s Capitolo Playground.

Located on Ninth Street next to Geno’s and Pat’s Steaks and a row of other restaurants, the park is a culinary destination for humans and rats alike. On a recent March day, someone left a pile of bacon and another of cooked pasta on the park’s sidewalk overnight.

“More people, more trash, more food,” said Lawrence Credle, abatement crew chief with the city’s vector control unit. “Those are the things that would perpetuate the situation.”

Credle and his team visited Capitolo Playground because they got a call reporting holes in the park’s soil that indicate rat warrens below.

The men carefully poured edible rat poison pellets into the holes and then sealed them up again. If the rodents consume the toxic treat, they’re doomed. (Rats, Credle noted, cannot vomit.) But if people keep dumping food in the park at night, vector control’s efforts may be in vain. Rigatoni tastes better than rodenticide.

Credle attributes Philadelphia’s relative lack of rats to the efforts of his team, who are nonetheless kept busy by calls that send them to parks, dumpsters, and alleys across the city.

“Because this department is working really hard,” said Credle, when asked why Philadelphia doesn’t appear as rat-infested as its urban neighbors. “We do good with our complaints, our problem sites. We try to stay on top of everything.”

Philadelphia government used to rely on citizen support to control rats. In the early 20th century, the city largely outsourced its efforts by offering a bounty of 2 cents for every dead vermin brought to a receiving center on Race Street.

Following a profusion of federal funds for rat control during Lyndon Johnson’s Great Society, the work became professionalized, and Philadelphia’s efforts were nationally recognized. In a 1987 Inquirer article, the head of vector control claimed the city’s population had been reduced for good by the crusade of the 1970s.

Reported rat sightings and bites plummeted between 1967 and 1987, even as federal funds were cut under President Ronald Reagan. Since then, data and rat control workers have grown scarcer: Rat bite complaints are no longer measured, and the city’s vector control unit is down to 17 employees from 75. But still, the vermin don’t scuttle into view as often.

“We don’t have as much staff as we used to,” said Credle, who has been with the department for 15 years. “We love what we do. We’re helping the community out. We have a passion [for the work] in our department, so I think that definitely adds to why the [rat] population is not there.”

The precise number of rats in Philadelphia is impossible to measure, as most data is based on complaints received by vector control or by private exterminators. Some academic experts have pointed to inconsistencies in the city’s data collection as a possible reason the problem doesn’t look as bad.

From what data is available, Philadelphia measures up well. Last year, Philly recorded less than 4,000 complaints, about 25 complaints per 10,000 residents. That’s less than New York’s 28 complaints per 10,000 residents, Baltimore’s 82, and D.C.’s 200.

Warmer world, more rats

Vector control says there’s no pattern to the rat control calls they receive. The vermin don’t discriminate, and the team has been deployed all over the city.

There are common themes though. Vacant lots attract illegal dumping and provide ample space for rats to burrow and nest undisturbed. Areas where street cleaning and trash collection are inconsistent have more issues. New construction can disrupt nests, flushing the vermin into view. Areas like Capitolo Playground, ringed by restaurants, attract diners who may leave behind leftovers.

Small urban parks in general are popular attractions for rats. Burrows dug below bushes provide robust shelter, and litter offers a steady supply of food.

That’s why Center City sees plenty of rats, even in tony areas like Rittenhouse.

“I remember walking with a friend of mine, and we just saw a swarm of them running across the path from one shrub to another,” says Alex Beaton Oum, who used to live in Rittenhouse. “At night, when I had to walk home, I would always go around the perimeter of Rittenhouse Square to avoid the rats.”

The COVID-19 pandemic in 2020 spawned ideal conditions for rat population growth. People spent more time at home and generated more garbage and food waste, while sanitation services struggled to keep up.

“You definitely got an influx of rats” during the pandemic, Credle said. “More people eating at home, more kids at home. In the summertime, it’s the same thing.”

Another global challenge may be making rat populations grow. A recent study linked a surge in urban rat populations to climate change.

Recent years have borne that out in our region. In Eastern Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Delaware, and parts of Maryland, Viking Pest Control saw a 287% increase in rodent activity from 2023 to 2024, said service director Craig Sansig.

“The last couple years we’ve had relatively mild winters, and that is one of the things that helped to drive the rodent population,” he said.

Sansig and his colleagues are predicting that the trend might reverse soon thanks to colder temperatures this winter when Philly saw its chilliest season in a decade. But that respite will be only temporary in a warming world.

As a result, experts say that more proactive measures may be needed in future. Mayor Cherelle L. Parker’s campaign to increase sanitation services could help, with twice weekly trash pickup spreading, a promised increase in street sweeping, and a crackdown on illegal dumpers.

More resources for vector control could be required as well. The team’s sterling reputation and the city’s historic success at repressing rats could be put to the test if warming weather boosts populations.

“The cities really committed to dealing with the increasing rat numbers are going to be cities that are investing more money and more personnel resources,” said Jonathan Richardson, of the University of Richmond in Virginia, who led the study on climate change’s influence on rat reproduction.

“The hardworking teams of rodent control are a very, very small component of city health departments,” Richardson said. “I compare it to Sisyphus. They’re pushing a boulder uphill, and climate warming is working against them.”

For now, given how relatively rare rat sightings seem to be, Philadelphia’s vector control is unlikely to grow. Out of sight, out of mind.

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