The day we moved into the new house – the very day – molehills started appearing in the nice front lawn. Not just one, oh no, but several – every day. The absence of the realty sign must have given them a signal to go forth and destroy the lawn with their burrows and endless tunnels.
Every morning, I dutifully go out with a cardboard box and scoop up the dirt that the mole has expelled onto the lawn. I stuff some down the hole to close it up and give a little silent prayer to whomever is in charge of moles that these moles will move to the forest that is next door, literally, to my house.
Sometimes before the afternoon has even passed, there will be fresh holes in the lawn. Sometimes it takes until the following morning for the trail of molehills to wind through the grass.
Last week, I bought some mole repellent, which purports to drive them away with some scent they don’t like. The idea is that each day you sprinkle another section of the lawn and thoroughly water. By the end of day four, they have been driven off the land to less stinky pastures.
By day three, they had circled the mole wagons and were back at the beginning of the lawn, making three extra big hills, just to prove a point.
And that, ladies and moles, is when I went crazy. Spade carrying, hose toting crazy. I scooped up the dirt but left the holes open. I turned on the hose and gave a good long squirt of water into each hole, hoping that a sudden wave of water might run them out of town for good.
No hills this morning. Not yet. Sure, my grass looks like swiss cheese at the moment, but there are no new hills. If a new one pops, I’m going to be forced to get a trap. I hate to do it, really, but this can’t go on. I can’t let them destroy the front yard and that’s what they’ll do if I let them keep burrowing under the whole thing.
I’ve heard bubblegum down the holes works, as does human hair. I can just picture a new hill with hairy wads of pink bubblegum poking out of the top like some gummy mount vesuvius. I’ve tried those sticks that emit sounds with no result. I don’t want to use poison and the repellent did nothing. So that leaves traps. Unless, the sudden blast of water drove them out – at least for now. I’m sure this won’t be the last encounter with a mole.
I’ve read an awful lot of kids’ stories that have a Mole as a character (Wind in the Willows comes to mind) but somehow, I can’t quite picture our moles hunkered down in their burrow, smoking pipes and sporting tweed jackets. I’d be more inclined to take tea with them if they were.
UPDATE: A new molehill is now right next to the old hole that I flushed with water.
*Photo found at
this site. Shudder