I’m afraid I may be losing the war. Although my Internet sources tell me that the average yard supports only one mole per acre, I apparently have a lawn that’s far, far, above average! And it’s not just the mounds that are distracting. My lawn guy’s mower has left large scraped patches of dirt where the grass should be, because the earth caves in on the tunnels, leaving a yard fraught with ridges and troughs.

I called my nearest neighbor to ask if they, too, were experiencing a plethora of mounds this year, indicating a mole’s “tunnel vision.” “Good grief, yes,” my neighbor adamantly replied. “Don’t get me started! It’s so bad we’ve had to put a line item in our budget for mole extermination!”

So it’s not just me.

I do my Mole Patrol shortly after dawn. The dew is still on the grass as I survey my kingdom. And every patrol reveals my failure to eradicate the pesky varmints! I was hoping my cat would be interested in helping keep my lawn mole-free, but so far she’s only brought me mice, shrews, and an occasional low-flying bird.

I’ve tried pellets, bombs and flooding them out. My lawn guy recommended poison gummy worms, but he admits he cuts them in thirds because they’re so expensive. A while back I poured the old gasoline from last fall’s chain saw fuel down a tunnel going back under the cement slab of my garage. Then I worried all day that the fumes would combust and burn my house down.

In 2007, trapping moles became technically illegal in Washington State, falling under the same guidelines as bear and beaver traps. Something about avoiding undue pain and suffering for the animals. Personally, I’d like to see my moles suffer as much as I do when I try to walk across my lumpy lawn.

So my current WMD (Weapons for Mole Destruction) are white poisoned pellets that are supposed to look like the grubs moles like to eat. I dig into fresh holes, feeling around for the direction of the tunnel, and pour an unhealthy dose down there.

Thank goodness I live in a relatively secluded area. Last week I went out extra early, found an offending site, and began digging at a fresh mound of earth like a crazed Jack Russell Terrier on steroids, scooping out the earth just as fast as a crazed Jack Russell Terrier on steroids can dig. I don’t know what I’d do if I actually caught up with one of these obnoxious creatures, but we’ll deal with that when the time comes.

Of course, I don’t know what they’d do with me, either… I’m out there every morning, vengeance in my heart, trowel in my hand, wearing only my flip-flops as I pursue the marauding prey. Yeah, that’s right—I most often do my mole hunting au naturel.

My Internet sources also say moles are not completely blind, but if they catch sight of me, they soon will be!