I ate my lunch Wednesday with the knowledge that on the other side of the white-washed composite-board wall, a critter was stuck to a sticky trap. As I finished, I heard steps on the stairs. It was the footless-ankle tromping of Farmer H, not the light trot of The Pony.
I heard the heavy metal door of the workshop open to the back yard. Then it closed. And footless ankles tromped upstairs. Was that IT? How could Farmer H not come in to apprise me of the situation? Sure, I complain every time he invades my lair. But this was extenuating circumstances.
Surely he had not just tossed that critter on the sticky carpet out into the yard! I'm pretty sure Juno, Jack, and Copper Jack would regard the Furry Scurrier as a tasty morsel to be scarfed in one bite. The sticky trap could not be good for their innards. I heard the footless-ankle-tromping over my head in the master bathroom. I sent Farmer H a text.
"What did you do with it? I don't want a dog to eat it and die from the sticky trap."
"Ok ill put it where they cant get it"
YOU'RE WELCOME, Juno, Jack, and Copper Jack! I saved you from your own gluttony.
Farmer H tromped back down those 13 steps and again, I heard the heavy metal door open. Close. I summoned Farmer H to my lair.
"There. I put it where they cain't get it no more."
"Where?"
"On the pool deck. They cain't get up there. And the gate to the steps is locked. [I think CLOSED would be sufficient.] The cat can get in there. He might eat it. But you don't like him much anyway."
"His mouth is smaller. He might get stuck, but I don't think he could eat the sticky trap. If he was doing his job, he would have eaten that critter before it was trapped. What did you do the first time, just throw it in the yard?"
"No. I couldn't get him off the trap. I wanted to use it again. So I put it down right outside the basement door. I thought there might be others that try to get in."
[Heh, heh! And the decomposing carcass of a dead comrade wouldn't be a deterrent, I suppose!]
Was it a mouse or a mole?"
"It was a mole. He had a snout on him. I mean, a nose. Like moles have. Pointy."
"Good thing you picked it up. Jack digs the baby moles out of the front yard and eats them. A lot."
A mole in the Mansion. Only in Hillmomba...
7 comments:
What is the difference between a baby mole and a vole? I'm curious.
I always thought moles were bigger..at least it was just a harmless mole and not a melanoma mole..heh.
Sioux,
Well, besides being totally different species, eating different things, not as much as you'd imagine, I guess.
A vole looks more like a mouse. Mousy color, mousy ears, mousy feet. A mole is like a blob with a pointy nose. The grown ones have hideous feet, but I've only see a full-size mole once. The baby ones Jack eats are dark brown and furry, without any noticeable characteristics. But when I see a little critter in the house, the first thing I think of is MOUSE! Not mole. Not vole.
***
River,
Heh, heh! I thought moles were bigger, too. At school, we used to dissect owl pellets, which are stuff that the owl can't digest. They were mostly furry pellets full of little vole bones. They came with a chart of a vole skeleton, so you could see what kind of bone you found. The Pony got a SKULL! I guess owls might eat baby moles, but I double they eat adult ones. I haven't researched it, though.
OMG! I am horrified. I looked up a photo of an adult mole, since I've never seen the feet of one, and you're right--they're hideous. Are those super long nails? Wow!
But then I glanced at your more current post, and it looked like there's a photo of half rear end. More horror... or perhaps not.
Sioux,
I see that me TELLING you was not sufficient! You reap what you Google, Madam! What did you THINK they use to dig those tunnels... SHOVELS?
I could have gotten a much better picture, of a FULL MOON, if The Pony had taken it while I was climbing into T-Hoe. That was the opposite of an ample rumpus. More like an atrophied rumpus.
As much as I love all my little creatures, I do not want a mouse in my house! Why would a mole want to come in your house? I thought they liked to be in holes in the ground.
Kathy,
The holes in our front field would say that they DO love to be in holes in the ground. Maybe it was being chased by Jack, and squeezed in the basement door crack. It was just a baby, lacking in the social graces.
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