It may not look like it on the surface, but I do take moderate pride in the appearance of my yard.Mark
Gores

I mow and water on a regular basis, and all I expect in return is for it to be green and an acceptable yard games playing surface. Lately, however, my lawn has become the battleground for the Gores/mole conflict of 2008, and I’m about to wave the white flag.

If you’ve never had to deal with moles, you probably don’t understand why they’re an issue. Aside from the daily addition of varicose veins to my yard, moles also bring unsolicited yard advice from people who have never had to deal with moles. It’s kind of like the old acne commercials, where the girl with perfect complexion tells the blemished girl that she really ought to look into Oxy, and the blemished girl retorts, “How would you know? You don’t have acne.” And the famous response to the question is, “Exactly.”

So my lawn is the blemished girl that seems to get all kinds of advice from those who have never had moles, which subsequently has led to another effect of moles: uncontrollable profanity. On a nightly basis, as I’m stomping down the varicose veins and looking like I’m trying to make wine out of my grass, I catch myself muttering words that I don’t think I’ve ever even heard of before but am sure wouldn’t be suitable for a family newspaper.

I’ve tried the poison pellets, the sprays and whatever else Home Depot said would work, and so far the only change is that I can actually hear them laughing at me now. I haven’t tried the traps yet, because most people told me they don’t work. That’s enough reason for me, especially since I don’t know what I’d do if I ever trapped one. If anyone would see me deal with an impaled mole, my manly reputation might be surrendered. I picture myself in a hazmat suit walking with the trap to the garbage can and then spastically shaking the mole off the prongs and getting one of those heebie-jeebie shivers where you try to shake all the evil off your hands. I mean … I don’t like traps because I’m a big PETA guy.

A friend of mine without moles told me his neighbor put pieces of Juicy Fruit in all the mole holes, possibly the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. The last thing I want is some cocky mole strutting around with fresh breath, getting all the chicks and making more mole babies. And on the off-chance that gum did have some sort of gastrointestinal significance, I would never try Juicy Fruit, because I’d have to deal with the leftover packs of gum that tastes like rubber bands after three chews.

One home remedy I did try was to stick a hose in the ground. A few sources, including “Caddy Shack,” confirmed this can have positive results. But after about 10 minutes of giving my yard a first-class colonic, I wasn’t seeing any moles fleeing for their lives. I thought I might have drowned them, but sure enough, the varicose veins and profanity were back the next day.

So now I’m at my wits’ end with the moles, and if one more person suggests that I should buy some face cream for them, I will lose it. When things aren’t going my way, I always try to remind myself to “make lemonade” and that’s my last resort for my mole problem. They have ruined all my other yard games, so now they get to become a yard game. Real life whack-a-mole will be the game of choice this weekend. We’ll be cranking Kenny Loggins’ “I’m Alright” and grabbing a six pack and a shovel.

 Mark Gores, a 27-year-old realtor, lives in Prior Lake with his wife, Emily. To comment on this column, call the editor at (952) 345-6378 or e-mail markgores@yahoo.com [2] or editor@plamerican.com [3].