Playtime is over my little demon claws. In general, I am pretty lenient on the local wildlife. As stated previously, I pretty much walked into their backyard, dug a hole and slapped a house on it and called it mine. In payment for this land grab, I tend to let the wildlife have free run of the area. This includes the deer who destroyed all my new evergreens I planted last year, the squirrels who constantly attack my bird feeders and the raccoons who like to dig up my mulch. Sure, I’ll shoo them away, but they generally have the privilege of returning to the waiting paws/hoofs of their four legged companions. However, I still have my limits.
Take for example the owner of this:
Do you have any idea how much damage this clawed paw can do? In case you are new to this creature, imagine if you will spending hour after hour after hour toiling away in the sun and rain to make your dwelling look as scenic as possible. You spend hundreds and hundreds of dollars in materials and equipment to keep it in that shape for the 3 of the 4 seasons. Then one day you wake up and it looks like the Chicago Bears held a scrimmage in your yard. I maintain less than 2 acres of grass/landscaping of our 15. The rest are left in their semi-natural woods state that animals are more than welcome to frolic in. But no, the owner of this bastard appendage thinks he should be able to do whatever it wants wherever it wants:
Well, I have my limits and fortunately there are geniuses out in the free world (which is currently turning socialist, but that topic is for another time) that have studied this demon, learned their wicked ways and designed the most effective (and lethal) device to exact our revenge. First a direct disclaimer, if you are a fan of PETA prepare to cry yourself to sleep (of course you can always ask your president to send another email to the Middle East asking them to using something other than donkeys to blow up our soldiers – nope, I haven’t forgotten nor ever will).
So what happens when my blood boils over, when my leniency is abused, when my hard work is destroyed without a hint of remorse. Well, let me tell you, it makes a loud SNAPPING sound…. wait for it… wait for it..
This one (let’s call him Mort) isn’t going to make it home tonight. Why isn’t Mort feeling so well anymore? Answer: Mort decided it would be fun to shred my front yard and is suspected of tearing up my side and back yard as well. I am also not talking about a single tunnel from one part of the woods to another. No, this was a systematic and diabolical effort that essentially resulted in raised ground in every square foot of the impacted area. So now the barrage of .. your fault, you didn’t kill the grubs, you didn’t put this down, you didn’t put that down, they are so cute, they are god’s creatures too, you’re evil yada yada yada.
What do I have to say to those city dwellers? Actually nothing, I prefer pictures instead:
Kind of peaceful isn’t it? Just hanging there enjoying the pretty day, reflecting on all good things in life … wishing it had stayed in the 13 other acres of wooded bliss. Oh, and as far as the “cute” camps out there. Exactly what is cute about this beast. Sure it is has a soft and fluffy pelt, but I have to think Mort was accidentally stepped on during Creation Day. That is probably what flattened out the front paws so bad. Couple that with a hideous rat face and you pretty much have your fill of nightmare fodder. Still not buying it, try this:
Granted, if god is a mole, I am going to be experiencing the “real” global warming in the future. However, for now, I am willing to take my chances and continue to battle against the horde. One this is for sure, I will continue to use the most lethal tool in my arsenal.
To the makers of this trap, I raise my glass and salute. You have truly mastered this animal in much the same way Raid has been owning the nervous system of wasps and bees. Tonight I will lay my head on my pillow and dream of grass between my toes and vibrant greens surrounding my little dwelling.
Wait a minute!!!! did I remember Rule #2…….oh crap, I think I forgot the double tap…now I’ll have…
ZOMBIE MOLES!
Honey, get the 9 – it’s gonna be a long long night.
Wildlife Intrigued 
Nice try—this is just the stuffed mole my kids got you 🙂
Ron
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Truth be told, it was the real thing, however, I will attest to the fact I was staring at that evil stuffed creature your kids felt so compelled to give me the WHOLE time I was making that post. For snicks I emitted a few evil laughs in it “GENeral DIRection… and TAUnted it a SECond time” (in my best French accent)
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