— Comedian Ze Frank
We have a mole. It’s not the kind of thing that you try to divert your eyes from staring at on your grandmother’s face. It’s also not one of those counter-spy double agent-type characters in a trench coat and fedora, and it’s certainly not one of the many characters roaming the halls of the White House these days – though that’s not necessarily a bad thing.
No. What we have on our hands at the Felkins home is a bad thing, at least where my yard is concerned. Try as I may, I can’t seem to get rid of the blooming thing.
Webster’s defines the mole we have as “any of numerous burrowing insectivores with tiny eyes, concealed ears and soft fur.” Felkins defines it as “a nuisance; a crafty and clever creature that is never seen but leaves behind paths of destruction and mayhem the likes few have seen; a plump varmint that often sits out of sight and snickers annoyingly at the homeowner as he peers blurrily out of his beady little eyes.”
And I thought cats were bad. Wait. Before I go any further, let me just say cats are wonderful creatures. The fact that I’m a dog guy shouldn’t deter any cat lovers from enjoying this column. I digress.
Now before you go and pull the “well, it’s just a little mole” bit with me, let me be clear. This is not your average run-of-the-mill mole I have on my hands. I assume – and this is mere speculation – somewhere in this mole’s life, he was exposed to gamma rays or bitten by a radioactive spider and has since morphed into a super mole, too strong and too smart for most tricks, traps and poisons.
Because, quite frankly, we have tried quite a few of those tactics, and nothing has worked. And I’m not talking about a casual occasional slap fight with this critter. We’re talking war, people, like Bill Murray in Caddyshack kind of stuff, minus blowing up the Bushwood Country Club, of course.
The whole fiasco made me wonder how anyone would get rid of a mole. So, I did what any 21st century guy would do, I Googled it. I came across articles on how to “humanely” and “ethically” remove the mole on my property. No. We are past the point of niceties. I want to launch a full-scale eradication the likes of Osama Bin Laden’s capture.
Quickly getting nowhere on the internet search, I took to Facebook last weekend for ideas. And the ideas came, but they weren’t really what I had in mind, which included a rocket launcher or a catapult net.
No. It was stuff like “use bubble gum” or “go buy a trap at Tractor Supply.” While those tips may be effective, I’m more or less at the point of beating the thing over the head with a shovel – I just want the opportunity. After four months, war kind of takes a toll on a man’s mind.
In the midst of my mole PTSD, I reluctantly decided to phone in the big guns. As referred to me by a Facebook friend, I called Pappy’s Mole Service.
As it turns out, Pappy has since retired to Stewart County. But Pappy’s nephew, Nick Neptune, still keeps the Gallatin business humming. I found out Nick has two tried-and-true methods of eradicating moles, both of which sounded ideal to me.
The first includes pumping the mole tunnel with a mix of propane and oxygen and blowing the sucker to kingdom come. Man, I like that. The second involves a series of traps Nick checks ever so often, but did I mention he blows moles up? Check out his Facebook page – Pappy’s Mole Service – if you don’t believe me. It’s one video after another of moles meeting their fate at the hands of a small, but effective, explosion.
I’d be willing to bet Nick is great at parties, too.
So, I think after all that, I’m going to leave the mole hunting up to the professionals and focus on my golf game. “He’s about 450 yards away. He’s going to hit a 2-iron, I think. Boy, he got all of that. It’s in the hole.”
Disclaimer: no moles were harmed in the making of this column...yet.
Jared Felkins is editor of The Democrat. Email him at email@example.com and follow him on Twitter @paperboyfelkins.