Moles 06/13/24
----------------------------------------------------------------------
I have a neighbor who is particular about his grass. Around here, we
have moles, and if you know about them, you know they destroy lawns.
And so, it naturally follows that he is an expert mole hunter.
His method is simple: He goes outside throughout the day and checks on
mole activity. If any of it approaches the front lawn (he lets them
have the back yard, as a concession) he waits until the activity is in
a new side tunnel. Once he knows that they're in a side tunnel (a new
branch in their larger system), he cuts a small hole and inserts a
garden hose. He then turns it on, and like magic the mole surfaces
through the ground for air. At that point, it's the classic game of
whac-a-mole.
He has explained his method to me a dozen times, and shared his
triumphs when his exploits have saved his yard and mine from the
invaders. I should note here that I don't particularly care about
grass or lawns, but I do care about my neighbor. As our yards touch,
any threat in my yard is a threat to him; so, I've given him
permission to hunt on my property, as it were. When he gets one, I
celebrate with him, as a good neighbor and friend should.
Lately, there has been a mole attack on my front yard. The battle has
been staying on my side of the line, but my neighbor has seen the
danger and has been patrolling. Last week he had success, but the
combatants were more than one, and the onslaught has continued.
Today as I went to check the mail, I saw some new hills. As
instructed, I went and tamped them down with my bare foot (you do this
so you can track activity), when low and behold, a crack pushed up
from one of the newly tamped spots. I have received my training and
knew what this mean: the mole was active. I scanned his tunnel system
(well, the evidence I could see of it) and noted that he was in a
new branch; but, he was quite close to two exits going opposite
directions.
It was less than ideal, but I decided that I'd test the theory of my
neighbor's method. I grabbed the hose and shovel, pressed the steel
head gently into the earth with my still bare foot, and then reached
in and felt for the hole. Finding it, I cleared it out as deep as I
could with my hand (recall, I had tamped it down), and shoved the hose
in.
The water flowed for about twenty seconds, bubbling up out of the
earth in a slow muddy fountain, before the tiny nose of the mole
surfaced. Moles are cute, at times; but all is fair in war. A single
whac from the edge of the shovel, which sloshed in the turbid water
and didn't quite feel like it would be enough, sufficed. I scooped him
up and walked to the creek behind my house, where he was deposited
(this was the final step, per my neighbor, to ensure their demise).
Before you go thinking my neighbor or I are monsters, I should mention
another thing about him: every time he tells of his method, or shares
his victory, he always mentions that, "the poor things can't help it".
He's quite sorry, apologetic even, for all of his successes. I'm not
sure if I feel entirely the way he does, so I am maybe more of a
monster than he is, though I only have one notch in my shovel handle
(metaphorically speaking; it's fiberglass).
And so, there you have it. My meager confession, and a reassurance
that the front lawns are safe, for now.
