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Whack-a-Mole

Note to readers: The following Roger Simon column was first published in April 1996.

The man came to the door and told me I had a mole.

It's a beauty mark, I replied, and I think it gives my face character.

"No," he said.

Yes, it does, I said. Furthermore, did you know that in 18th century France facial moles were considered so attractive that people painted them on with lead-based makeup?

"No," he said.

Yes, I said, though the lead in the makeup killed them deader than mackerels. And though the vast majority of moles are completely harmless, they should be watched for any changes and a doctor should be consulted.

"In your lawn!" he screamed at me. "You have moles in your lawn!"

Then, he took me outside and showed me the little ridges running all over the lawn. I live in a neighborhood where they make everybody pay for the same lawn care service. This is so nobody's lawn looks any better or any worse than anybody else's. It is very democratic, and it make us hate each other a little less.

"There," he said, pointing to the little ridges. "Take a look."

And he was right. There were these ridges that would go straight for a few feet and then zig to the left and then zig to the right. It was as if little drunken men had been tunneling beneath the lawn.

"What did you think those were?" he asked me.

Little drunken men tunneling beneath the lawn? I said.

"They are moles," he said. "Because I am reasonably sure they are not gophers."

You are? I said.

"Yes," he said. "Gophers make mounds that look like leaning volcanoes. I don't see any mounds like that."

Thank goodness, I said.

"You are very lucky," he said, which is what people always tell you when you have just been very unlucky. "While gophers eat vegetation, moles do not. They merely eat the insects — earthworms, grubs, beetles, ants and larvae — that fall into their tunnels, which they keep clear by pushing up the surplus dirt. Hence, the ridges."

Hence, I said.

"But you have to get rid of them," he said.

I do? I said.

"Yes," he said. "Otherwise, they will spread and spread. Their appetites are voracious. They eat more than their bodyweight every day."

That's a lot of earthworms, grubs, beetles, ants and larvae, I said.

"Yes," he said.

"And did you know moles can tunnel at a rate of 12 to 15 feet per hour?"

Not until this very moment, I said.

"Which is why you have to get rid of them," he said.

OK, I said. What do I do?

"Well, it's got to be poison, chemicals or traps," he said. "But there's only one problem."

Which is?

"Poison pollutes the environment, and chemicals don't really work," he said.

OK, I said, we'll go for the traps.

"Choker traps, harpoon traps or claw traps?" he said.

I think I may be sick, I said.

"And you've got to set them in the right place," he said. "Moles have two types of tunnels."

Let me guess, I said. Right and left? Up and down? Passing and no passing?

"They have one-time tunnels and regular tunnels," he said. "Guess where you have to put the traps."

The regular tunnels, I said.

"Hey," he said, "you done this before?"

It was a lucky guess, I said. Is there anything else we can do besides traps?

"Well," he said, "there are the old-fashioned methods."

Old-fashioned is the best, I said. Always.

"One old-fashioned way is to back your car up to the lawn, leave the engine running, put a hose from your exhaust pipe into the tunnel and that drives the moles out," he said.

And then, they run away and everybody lives happily ever after? I said.

"No," he said. "When they come out, you hit them with a shovel."

Any other old-fashioned ways? I asked.

"Well," he said, "you can tramp all over the ridges and collapse the tunnels. Then, you sit down and wait. When you see the ridge being pushed back up, you quick grab a garden hose, stick it down into the tunnel and force the moles up."

And then, let me guess, I said.

"Right," he said. "Then, you hit them with a shovel."

Why do I have to hit them with anything? I said. Why not just let them live down there in their little tunnels and let bygones be bygones?

"Well for one thing," he said, "your livestock could step into a tunnel and break a leg."

I don't have any livestock! I said. This is the suburbs!

"OK by me," he said. "But your neighbors are going to complain."

Let them, I said. There's an old-fashioned way of dealing with neighbors when they come to complain.

"You don't mean ... " he said.

Right, I said. You hit them with a shovel.

To find out more about Roger Simon, and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate webpage at www.creators.com.