Day 107

I'm losing the war against the mole(s?). The kind that burrow underground and tear up lawns in the process. Not the other kind of mole, although I do have a couple of those as well. 

It all started about 3 years ago when I noticed some soft spots in the backyard. At first I thought nothing of it but then I noticed they were getting more frequent. When I finally started paying closer attention, it was clear that something was burrowing under the grass. So I did what any self-respecting 50-something guy who puts too much time into babying his yard does, I went to the store to buy something to kill them. Wasn't sure what it was going to be until I had a chance to see what options were available. First time out, I opted for granules that you sprinkle on top of the grass. After a month or so, it was clear those didn't work so I went back to the store and bought smoke bombs. The idea is that you light the fuse and stick it into the tunnel and smoke 'em out. Or the smoke is supposed to kill them. Regardless, that didn't work either. Time to regroup and consider other options. 

Dawn called a company that says they would come treat the lawn for the moles. That may be the fastest I have ever spent $400 with absolutely nothing to show for it. Whatever they sprayed on the lawn appeared to have made the mole(s?) more hungry. There were tunnels everywhere.

Plan C provided some relief, but it was short lived. This was similar to the over-the-counter smoke bombs in that gas was involved but now it was in the hands of a professional who was using a gas-powered engine to force the lethal smoke into the tunnels. The mole(s?) disappeared for a couple of months and then came back. So we put another call into the exterminator. This process repeated itself 4 or 5 more times, each with the added benefit of us writing a check to the exterminator. I should have told the exterminator I would only pay for dead moles. $150 each. Like a bounty.   

Plan D involved me and Damian going into yard armed with a BB gun, a machete and a garden hose. I was going to flush it (them?) out of the tunnel with water and then kill it (them?). Or Damian was. Not that it mattered. We just ended up making a muddy mess of the lawn all while I was doing my best re-enactment of Bill Murray's breakout role of Carl Spackler in Caddyshack. Only he was fighting gophers. I was pitted against gopher's evil cousin(s?). 

At my wit's end, I had all but given up and was ready to concede the north to the communists when Dawn found another possible solution on Amazon. These were lethal, spring-loaded scissor traps that got really good reviews. Each trap consists of two pairs of scissors about 4 inches apart, facing each other. With the blades of the scissors closed, you push them into the top of a tunnel with your foot. As you keep pushing down and the pressure plate makes contact with the grass, the downward pressure forcing open the scissors. After they open so far, the trap is set. The idea is that when the mole does its mole thing and comes through the tunnel it will push the dirt up against the pressure plate releasing the scissors and - BLAMO! - no more mole. [Queue maniacal laughter. "The only good mole, is a dead mole."] Dawn ordered two of the traps. 

I did manage to trap / kill 2 moles late last summer and the early fall. I was ecstatic when I got the first one. In hindsight, a little too happy. I wanted to nail the mole's dead body to the fence as a warning to other moles that might be lurking in the vicinity of our yard. The message clear: "Don't even think about coming here or THIS WILL BE YOU." Dawn expressed come concern that our neighbors might misinterpret this message and so vetoed my plan. Ok fine, but I still wanted to the local mole community to know they were messing with the wrong homeowner. Not knowing how to effectively communicate this, I settled for moving the traps to different spots in the yard. Take that, you furry little bastards. 

Turns out they are smarter than - me? -  I gave them credit for. It's been months since my last victory, but they have clearly been enjoying themselves this winter tunneling their furry little hearts out. I've tried moving the traps but that hasn't helped at all – no matter where I put them, they just go around. My hunch is that they are able to smell the stench of death of their former comrades left behind on the scissors. I did wash them off but maybe the mole's olfactory sense requires something more powerful than dish soap. I hope I figure it out soon because I'm about to crack.

My option of last resort is to rip out all the grass and replace it with astroturf.