It’s bad enough when the new lawn I put in over a year ago gets mangled by a 13-year old golden retriever who still thinks he’s a pup, and keeps on digging. It is bad enough that something brown (not the dog’s urine or the heat) blotches about 25% of the yard. Now, a mole, or moles, decided to burrow a highway network under our yard.
A year earlier our dog did his duty and dug up a varmint. That was because the mole made a bad decision. It was playing under the area where our dog does his business each morning. Our dog likes his privacy.
The dead mole’s cousins sought revenge and moved to the new yard. Now our dog just yawns.
Mole duty is on the guy’s side of the home-front duty ledger. As a domestic engineer guy, just about everything lands there. Besides, women get all weirded out about critters and varmints.
Mole campaigns conjure up images of grounds-keeper, Bill Murray, in Caddy Shack. Considering my options, I thought using dynamite a bit too disruptive. While my mom was still living on the old homestead in northern Indiana, my older brother once tried drowning moles by pumping water into their underground network. Didn’t work. They must have strapped on some snorkeling gear. I thought about using a rifle with night-vision, and staying up all night...party-time for moles. Then I remembered that I don’t own a gun, nor could I hit the broad side of a barn during those farm days.
I bought some poison pellets at Home Depot, buried them in half a dozen mounds, and left town for eight days. Upon returning I noted no fresh mounds. The moles have either died, burrowed deeper, or moved on to a neighbor’s yard. I’m guessing they moved on since I also buried a map with arrows pointing to the neighboring yards.
Once again, guys have proved their superiority over varmints and critters. We rock. Now it’s time to strap on my apron and prepare dinner.