For the past month or so, new mole hills have popped up in our backyard almost every day. These are not your standard mole trails; these are mole MOUNTAINS, foot-high piles of loose dirt. I've been setting traps to no avail.
Yesterday afternoon, as I sat here looking out at the backyard, something in my brain snapped. I went to the shed, got a shovel, and started digging. When I finally dug down to where I could see an actual hole, I channeled my father-in-law and went to get the water hoses. These mole hills are at least 150 feet from the nearest outdoor hydrant. It took FOUR 50-ft hoses to reach them all. I was about worn out by the time I strung all the hoses together and turned on the water, but I was determined.
I jabbed the end of the hose into every hill and tunnel I could find and filled them until they either backed up or sprung a leak in a tunnel downstream. By the time I was done, the whole area was soup. I lost my crocks in it a time or two as I tried to stomp down all the tunnels. The exercise must have taken two hours. I never did see a mole surface, gasping for breath. I hoped I had drowned them all in their lairs.
This morning, I took a stroll to check for new digging, and there were places where one or more moles had re-opened a tunnel. I set traps in them.
If I don't catch a mole today, I may consider dynamite.
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