Re: trapping the moles, I was going to have to let go of that. Turns out I wasn’t the best trapper. I knew from the start that would be dumb (like trying to fight the moss in the PNW), but talking to my stepmom Ivanna confirmed it. In her no-nonsense, east coast/ Ukrainian way she said, why would you do that? Why? What’s the big deal?
At the time I’d gotten myself so rankled over the moles I was collecting bids from exterminators, filling out online forms, considering thousand dollar+ annual subscriptions. I was unemployed and wanted to get things done. Dawn talked me off the ledge. I went DIY. Then I threw two hundred dollars at the problem, traps and repellent. The repellent comes in a large black bucket with toxic warnings, weighs maybe 40 pounds. It was worth that much just to calm my nerves. But when you step back and reassess, what’s the big deal? The irony is this: moles seem to be more attracted to healthy lawns. So the ones that are more cared for (ergo, fussy homeowners) get messed with more by moles.
The real effect of ridding yourself of pests is just displacing them to the neighbors. I noticed some new molehills in the front yard next door and wondered if I’d effectively rerouted them. That seemed kind of funny, there was a weird rivalry between me and the neighbor (at least in my head).
I had a dream I caught one and then the next day when I checked the traps I imagined pulling its twisted body out of the ground, but no luck. It would be a mixture of sadness and glee. Now I’ll just pull the traps and store them in the shed for Another Day. And spread the repellent before the fall rains begin, so the little granules soak into the ground and maybe it will be like pimple cream, they’ll just go away.
But like the moles, pimples don’t go away either. Maybe it’s better to just not look so close. Features vs. blemishes. Live and let live.
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Categories: Creative Nonfiction, Humor, Memoir
Bill Pearse 
I have the occasional mouse, but feel bad about trapping them. They’re just trying to live their life, you know? And it’s nice to have the company. Yesterday, I found my butter dish (thankfully covered in Saran) tipped off the table onto the chair. Beefy mice. We’re gonna need a bigger trap.
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Nice to have the company. What a lovely way to think about it! Just mind yourself if you start talking to them in funny voices. Slippery slope
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I’m not much bothered by the moles, but I do try to discourage them (by stamping on their molehills and pressing down their tunnels every day) because the ground nesting bees move into their tunnels. And the bees are pretty aggressive and nasty.
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Ground nesting bees wtf?! If it’s not one thing, it’s t’other
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I’ve accidentally stepped on their tunnel, when I’m cutting the grass, and they swarm out and really go after you. I run like hell.
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Yeah that’s terrifying! I get that.
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If your moles are anything like our moles, a good foot long with dark short silky fur and sweet little pink hands, I think you would have freaked out at actually dealing with the remains. Am speaking now as a gardener who would also have freaked out at the sight of mole hills in her veggie plot.
Actually the soil in the hills is rather good for seed sowing. I sometimes used to scoop it up from the farm field on the way to allotment. Collecting mole hills, I know – more than a bit OCD.
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OCD is the root cause triggering factor. That and our “loamy soil” attracts them with their big pink hands and their maddening non-90 degrees turns that makes the trapping especially difficult! But a friend showed me this morning how he traps so I think I’ll give it another go with the new technique.
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My only experience of moles is via Wind in the Willows and Cartoons.
Thus I hope things don’t escalate to the point where you need a warning sign in the garden, Bill.
• Beware •
cartoon production
in progress
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The saga continues. I reckon there’s a film in this. Or maybe National Lampoon already did it.
I did read about a lawn-proud guy who hired a gang of imported guinea pigs who rolled up with sharpened incisors and miniature AK48s (prototypes) and before you could say pogrom, the moles were gone. Food for thought.
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I met with an old friend yesterday and he reads my blog, lives around the corner from us, and showed me how he places his traps. Oddly, we agreed, it’s kind of fun (and kind of like a game). So I’m going to try his technique and reset the traps. Just for “shits and giggles” as we say over here.
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Is it OK that I’m barracking for the moles?
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Of course! Maybe you relate to them with the large pink hands?
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…and the poor vision, and the tendency to hide in my burrow, and…
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They’re cunning too. Now I’m starting to see this…
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Hahaha. Cunning, I failed. Smelly and grubby I can do.
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You can find your way in the dark
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