When I look upon my lawn and see the bare patches where grass used to be, I am reminded of last year when the lawn was in its prime. It was cropped short in neat lines and there were no mole hills to be found at all. With few weeds and a good level surface, it was a beautiful spot for the boys to play football and for me to play fetch with the dog. Then came the autumn.
During the last few weeks of pitiful sunshine the mole hills arrived. I managed to clog the blades of the lawn mower on the last cut of the year buzzing over the tops of the four substantial mole hills. I wasn't to know that those first hills were merely the front line. An entire battalion of moles hills followed on in a slow and steady progression until the first of the year and they could no longer be ignored. Something had to be done!
Mike the Gamekeeper arrived back today and checked the traps. Two moles had been trapped and killed and he showed them to me. One was an old male mole. Please do not start thinking of Mr Mole, the mild mannered home loving character from Wind in the Willows or you will cause me to suffer even more upset. The other mole was also a male, but much younger. He was one of last year's brood.Their squinty almost useless little eyes were closed. Both their coats were a beautiful powdery dark gray that is so soft to stroke. Please do not misunderstand me. I hate killing. I am heartbroken that these two beautiful creatures have died in order that there be tidiness in my garden but there really is no other way.
The traps were reset and tomorrow afternoon will be checked and then removed. Perhaps I can consider these little moles as a pagan sacrifice to The Green Man. I am going to put a few mole deterrents on the place in the hope that this helps to keep them from an untimely death.
I will endeavor to be a good and diligent gardener this year so that the demise of these two animals will not have been in vain.