Blood on my Spade

Pak Choi, poorly grown.

I had a new experience today. I intentionally killed an animal for the first time in my life. It gave me a desperate feeling that I don't want to experience again.


Garlic, growing well despite the rich soil.

I've been successful lately, with the mole traps that we put down, and there had been three clean trappings prior to this morning. I was really fuming though because the first thing I noticed was the complete mess that had been made of my most recent sowings of French Beans. It was the moles again, and this time they had been through both of the lines I'd sowed. There was nothing for me to see in the traps right next to all the carnage they had made, which means they had got off scott free. I re-set the traps and watered them, which encourages the moles to come looking for juicy worms.

Trapping is a very detached form of pest control. If it all goes to plan you shouldn't have to be there at the point when the animal dies. I like it that way because I'm not the kind of person who can stomach the hands-on killing of an animal. I'd wondered what I might do if I came across a trap where the mole was still alive, but hadn't really considered how stressful it might be to deal with it.


My potatoes are looking good; I have no beef killing slugs.

I later checked the traps over on the potato bed. My potatoes are not too much of a concern, since they are deep and don't require watering that often even with the dry weather we've had lately, but I have one trap over there which George set a while back. As I walked over I could see there had been some sort of activity because the ground was broken up around the trap. I looked inside, and before I even saw it move I sensed that it was probably still alive. It was trapped just below the stomach and trying it's hardest to get away. I panicked really, and wondered whether I was going to have to wring it's neck or something to finish it off. I quickly had the second thought of using a hard, heavy object to knock it over the head with. Anything to avoid putting my hands around it's soft body and breaking it's poor neck. I really didn't fancy the prospect of that at all. I got a piece of wood and whacked it over the head. Thankfully it stopped moving almost immediately.

That was distressing, but not as bad as what came shortly after. About half an hour later I was sat in the greenhouse which looks onto the legumes bed (aka molesville). I was potting some back-up runner beans when a thought ran through my mind. I thought 'wouldn't it be coincidental if I were to look up right now and spot some movement in the soil'. And upon glancing at the far right corner of the bed that's exactly what I saw. I had to make a dash for it because the moles' activity in this area has ruined pretty much everything, and I knew that this was a prime opportunity to sort things out. I grabbed the garden fork from just outside the greenhouse door and carefully approached the moving soil in order not to scare him away. I lashed the fork right into the spot where I thought he was and when I pulled it out there was a mole impaled on one of the prongs with a line of blood dripping to the floor. I instantly felt disgusted, and was in a panic again when I realised it was still alive and wriggling. I had to slide it off the prong with my foot and try to whack it over the head with the side of the fork. It was messy, and I missed his head a couple of times, giving him what must have been excruciating blows to his frail little body. I felt sick, but I got him on target at last and he died.

I looked down and noticed I had blood all over my garden fork. Was what I had done right? Was it justifiable because I wanted more beans this year? I'll probably end up throwing half of them away, or get sick of them and let them go all stringy. The blood on my fork said that it wasn't, but I felt relief once I'd calmed down and transported the poor sod to his place of rest. We have five moles buried by the shed door, in an area that Aki has coined 'mogura san no haka'. This was meant as 'the grave of Mr. Mole', but what she really should've written on the little tombstone she made was 'mogura no bochi' meaning 'the cemetery of the moles'. I never realised there was so many down there.


Aki and I, on a happy day when the moles were nowhere to be seen.

Only another 71 days until Japan!! Aki pointed that out to me yesterday in the pub. Roll on July.