How to catch a mole

How to catch a mole

One of the many furry friends we have in Hure is a mole or colony of moles, I am never quite sure which. Until we started putting in the pool, we were resigned to a soggy and bumpy underfoot. However after taking the momentous decision to cut down our pine trees and put in a new pool, we have become more conscious of the pristine requirements of a lawn. Our pool man, M Flamand, who has become a regular visitor although his visits are more sporadic than we would like since the process of putting in our pool is seemingly going to span the decade, assured us that the sound of earthmoving and digging would scare away our little furry friends, but not so. Mole hills appear with regularity under mud, gravel and worst of all our new lawn.

Moles are unknown in Australia so considerable research was necessary in the animal eradication sector of the comprehensive Leclerc bricolage centre at Langon. This research unearthed (no pun intended) a wealth of procedures from the mechanical to the chemical, all offering to rid our garden of this invader. Putting all thoughts of Ratty and his semblables from our minds, we scrutinised the range of options intently.

We already knew that it was possible to employ a mole man who would come, armed inscrutably with his hunting kit and that there was also on the market a search and destroy subterranean missile which could be introduced into the mole gallery ( so the tunnels running between mole hills are termed) and which on contact with the object of prey would explode, leaving little evidence above ground of this nefarious activity. However neither of these solutions could be found in the aisles of Langon LeClerc.

A possible option was a moles trap, but what to do with the body, alive or dead, if the trap worked? Another option was to feel friendly garden worms (the diet of moles) a noxious compound, cut off the worm’s heads and tails to stop them escaping and drop them down the gallery to be eaten by our moles who would in turn be poisoned.

More kindly was lawn fertiliser containing an odorous addition which was “repulsive” to our little “taupes”. A similarly scented product in the form of a tablet which could be dropped down into the mole gallery was also available. The ma of the house preferred the battery operated device that emitted a soft but piercing whine, seemingly unpleasant for mole ears, which would send our friends scattering to other fields. Considering that overkill was perhaps the best option we opted for all three.

However uncomfortable as our moles found these devices, as could be seen by the alacrity with which they shifted camp, they did not shift camp out of our garden. Not for a moment. It was home and little mounds appeared in new and more challenging spots.

On our return from Italy last year Kathy, whose work in establishing our lawn is not to be underrated, and I decided to try the Ultimate Solution: the gas oven approach. Lit cartridges with wicks at both ends could be dropped down the mole hole into the gallery, once someone (Kathy) had forced her hand down the hole and identified the spot. We then placed heavy stones over the holes wherever smoke was seen to wisp out of the ground. The scene resembled a cross between an Enid Blyton tale of country animal life and a documentary reconstruction of Auschwitz in miniature. Pushing aside feelings of guilt, we hoped for a mole free future. Later we learned that a dead snake had been found: could one of those holes where Kathy gaily plunged her hand have been misdiagnosed?

At the moment we are at a standstill. No new holes seem to have appeared and we did find one mole corpse a couple of weeks ago. But in one part of our rather decimated garden, we have lawn, lovely green, soft lawn.