Of Moles and Marianne

I walked into the CO-OP the day before yesterday and spotted George walking toward me.  George has worked at the CO-OP for a number of years, and he's always been a friendly and helpful clerk.

"I need something to murder moles---by tonight!" I announced to George.

I think the word "murder" stunned George but only for a moment.

Soon we were standing in the aisle looking at the possibilities available for murdering moles.

Some contained strychnine; others contained other forms of poison.

"Don't want my cats and dogs getting into any of that," I said.

George agreed.

I pointed to another item with about six stick-like paks and asked how the product worked. 

"Well, you put that in the mole tunnel, light it, and it smokes 'em out," George explained.

"Probably not a good idea, cuz I want to murder the moles who've been invading my greenhouse and murdering my spinach, lettuce, corn and cabbage," I said, adding that a greenhouse is supposed to save money and to have to put down a cement floor for my greenhouse to avoid mole invasions seemed too darned spendy. 

Plus, my with my talents for creating disasters, I'd probably blow up the greenhouse. 

George agreed.

My need to murder subsided as we started looking at repellants.  Some you could mix up, while one advertised no mixing, no messes, just hook up the garden hose and turn it on.

I opted for that one as simplicity is a staple these days with anything I do to keep ahead of my daily tasks on the Lovestead. 

Plus, I knew that with this one dispenser, I could rid the greenhouse area of both moles and voles AND armadillos.  

Can't beat that, I thought.  I haven't seen any armadillos trying to eat my lettuce, but I haven't seen the moles either.  I'm just assuming it's these ugly little monsters as pictured above.

I do not like anything about these moles after seeing so much of my greenhouse veggie crop disappear from its planting container. 

In spite of that hatred, I have gained a little respect for these creatures.  Their sense of organization is stunning.

The first crops to go were the nice lettuce and my beautiful spinach. Lettuce just plain disappeared overnight, but spinach removal involved a little more planning.

The moles had neatly removed all spinach spears and put them in a pile next to the planting flat.  

Next morning, the pile was gone.  I have to admit a tinge of admiration cuz they were at least neat about their thievery. 

The night they ate the tops off from my baby corn and stole roots and all of my cabbage, I was furious.  Bill got to listen to the age-old rant about how "everything in this country is hard.  You get two steps forward and then get pushed back three miles."  

"I can't even have a greenhouse that works!" I said my litany of griping continued.  The protesting phase was soon followed by the defiant "I'll show them" determination.

First thought: cover all the pots with Saran wrap, only put little posts in the container so the Saran wrap doesn't smash what plants are left.

That thought soon changed when I went back to the greenhouse and noticed the wad of netting beneath the shelf----put away from last year's attempt to save the strawberries from the robins.  Of course the fact that the grass grew so high in the strawberry patch pretty much negated the need for netting. 

I finally decided that I could use some little stakes and cover everything with that netting.  

"Just watch those moles try to eat stuff while trying to maneuver through the netting!" I said to Bill.

Well, I didn't get to watch, but a couple of nights later, they had figured out how to beat the netting and chomp off some more corn tops along with eating every single one of my baby petunias. 

That sight incited the murder idea, followed by George and my agreement that the repellant for moles, voles and armadillos might be the best place to start.

So, I brought the dispenser home, hooked it up to the hose, flipped the switch and sprayed away all around the greenhouse and inside around the edges and next to each pot.

It's now been two nights, and nothing's been touched.  I'm feeling a bit triumphant and hopeful that I can announce to George next time I go to the CO-OP that he won't be seeing my name in the records column for first degree mole murder.

Still, I know patience is a virtue.  Those little critters could still be plotting.  Smoke bombs  may be in the future.  

For now, I'll calm down and hope that my worries about moles, voles and armadillos taking over what garden I might salvage might just disappear in an incremental fashion just like my spinach did. 

Happy Saturday.