A Time to Kill

I do apologize if you find this offensive, but I must say I was highly offended when, after spending hundreds on gorgeous new plants and lovingly planting them in our backyard, little mole hills began to appear.

We have been laboring over our backyard since May for crying out loud. And along comes a mole (or two or three) and threatens to ruin the whole thing with his careless and erratic tunneling. (To be fair, I'm sure the mole felt his tunneling was careful and predictable.)

With a brand new lawn seeded and sprouting, and our baby blueberry bushes and helpless hydrangeas in need of TLC, we did not enjoy the luxury of messing around. Besides, I've tried the more "humane" ways of discouraging moles to stop digging in my yard and they have failed miserably.

I once made an concoction of cayenne pepper, Castor oil and Murphy's oil soap and poured it down several mole holes 2 years ago. The result: the next morning the mole hills had multiplied exponentially. I was pretty sure the mole was in his underground lair laughing to himself and thinking, "take that sucker."

The past mole tunnels and hills had damaged our yard to the point where the very landscaping project we are still involved in became quite necessary.

So, you see, we were left with very few options. The steel jaws of death had to be employed.

And when we pulled the sprung trap from the ground with that little devil-mole attached, I did feel sad for a moment. (About 10 seconds while I ran into the house to grab the camera and snap a few shots.)