THE SINS AND VIRTUES OF THE MOLE 



CHARLES D. DAVID 

 Checkmating Nature's Gimlet in Seed-bed, Flower-border, and Lawn 



;HE man owning a velvety lawn, a pet Tulip bed, or a 

 vegetable garden, sometimes wonders why moles were 

 ever created, and finds no answer, unless he concludes 

 that they are a part of the primal curse of the soil, 

 along with the "thorns and thistles," and the "sweat of the 

 brow" — just something to keep us reminded of the far-reaching 

 mistake our first parents made in the Garden of Eden so long ago. 



Wherever the mole population is numerous, there is an im- 

 mense amount of damage done where seeds are planted, bulbs 

 are set, or where a smooth sward is desired. It is a hard matter 

 to convince the irate gardener that moles do not seek vegetation 

 of any kind, but subsist entirely on animal food, though that 

 such is the fact has been proven beyond the shadow of a doubt. 

 1 n law, the mole might be regarded as an " accessory before the 

 fact," as in his everlasting search for earthworms, he opens up a 

 convenient runway down a row of sprouting seed for the field- 

 mice and other small vermin who follow along and commit the 

 actual crime of eating the seed. Naturally, the mole seeks 

 soft, loamy soil for his tunneling operations, and this leads him 

 to gardens and flowerbeds, where his prey abounds, and in his 

 careless digging, he displaces bulbs, leaves roots of growing 

 plants exposed, and buries seeds so deep that they fail to ger- 

 minate. In this way he scatters destruction in his path, and 

 makes himself a pest to be reckoned with. How to get rid of 

 him, is the question often perplexing the gardener. 



Traps set at the opening of their tunnels, may account for a 

 few vacant chairs in the mole family, but the number destroyed 

 in this way is neglible compared with the hundreds that some- 

 times infest certain localities. The Agricultural Department 

 at Washington has given the subject careful attention, and, 

 after much experimental work, has decided that poison is the 

 only effective method of getting rid of the pest. 



Unroasted peanuts, first dipped in the white of an egg and 

 then liberally sprinkled with paris green and allowed to dry; or 

 raisins rolled in strychnine are recommended. Of course, this 

 must be done with a stick or toothpick, and never with the hands 

 as strychnine is a violent poison. When the peanuts and raisins 

 are dry, drop at intervals of a few feet into the runways, through 

 openings made with a broomhandle or walking cane, and then 

 press down with the foot. 



This is considered much more efficacious than any kind of trap. 

 Chopped or pulverized tobacco, scattered over the surface and 

 worked down in the soil, is also suggested as sure to drive moles 

 away. It seems that they cannot endure nicotine-scented soil, 

 and even a fat earthworm with a tobacco flavor is more than 

 they can stand. While this plan does not lessen their numbers, 

 it makes them seek other hunting grounds. 



Sunken barriers of boards, stones, or wire mesh around the 

 borders of beds have been tried with indifferent success, as it 

 seems still a moot question how 

 deep a mole will go. It is known 

 that their galleries sometimes ex- 

 tend down in the ground for three 

 or four feet, but as vertical digging 

 is much harder work than horizon- 

 tal tunneling, it does not seem 

 likely that they would follow an 

 obstruction more than a few feet, 

 before concluding the "game was 

 not worth the candle." Moles 

 seldom trouble plants growing close 

 to the foundation of a building, so 

 that is a safe place for valued bulbs. 



SO MUCH for the mole as a pest, and now something as to 

 his personality, and as one of nature's most highly special- 

 ized machines for moving earth. No detail has been overlooked 

 that could add to his efficiency as a worker in clay; his flexible 

 snout is the last word as a boring implement; his neck has 

 practically been eliminated, and his shape is just a gradual slope 

 from the point of his nose to the largest part of the body. His 

 ribs are braced to withstand pressure from above, and his out- 

 turned hands have never been duplicated as earth-movers. Even 

 his tail has been fitted with a system of nerves so sensitive as to 

 keep him posted as to what may be going on behind. As he 

 lives in the dark, eyes would be no particular asset, so they have 

 about become obsolete, and are little more than pin-points hid- 

 den under the fur. His very fur has become so modified and 

 different from that of other animals, that it will lie one way as 

 well as another, thus doing away with any possible friction 

 against the walls of his tunnel, an arrangement that enables him 

 to travel backward as well as forward, with equal ease. The 

 strength of a mole compared with his size is simply beyond com- 

 prehension, and when ploughing through the mellow soil, and 

 throwing up the winding breast-works that play such havoc with 

 the looks of the lawn, he pushes himself forward with the 

 strokes of a powerful swimmer, and apparently with no more 

 effort. 



When he travels just below the surface, he is hunting for 

 earthworms, cut-worms and other game, and the deeper tunnels 

 lead to his underground nest. He shows a decided preference 

 for soil that holds more or less of moisture, so his rambling trails 

 are oftenest seen in meadow lands, gardens, and across the 

 smooth expanse of well-kept lawns — just the places he should 

 not go! Nature endowed him with a digestive apparatus that 

 does its work so rapidly that he is kept in a perpetual state of 

 hunger, with starvation just around the corner, if he goes with- 

 out eating for a few hours. About twelve hours is his fasting 

 limit, longer than that is fatal so, if he would live, he must keep 

 a steady flow of worms stomach-ward. In his efforts to keep 

 his engine fired-up, he devours an incredible number of worms, 

 some of them harmful to vegetation. 



To give some idea of the appetite of a healthy, normal mole, 

 on one occasion a captive, in the space of twenty-four hours, got 

 away with "fifty large, white grubs; one chestnut worm: one 

 wire-worm; the grubs of forty-five rose-bugs, and thirteen 

 earthworms." So while it cannot be denied that he does a lot 

 of damage, at the same time, he destroys an unbelievable num- 

 ber of worms and grubs, some of them hurtful. As proof of 

 their feeding habits, captive moles have been surrounded with 

 potatoes and bulbs, but were invariably found dead in the morn- 

 ing — starved to death in the midst of plenty. 

 The mole can dig all night in clay, and in the morning appear 



arrayed in a spotless suit of velvet 

 that fairly glistens with cleanness, 

 without a speck of dirt from the 

 end of his pink nose to the tip of 

 his pink tail. Though he lives right 

 in the dirt, no one ever saw a dirty 

 mole. He rarely comes to the sur- 

 face, and if dragged out into the 

 light, he is frantic to get back in the 

 ground; and if placed on soft soil, 

 will almost instantly disappear, 

 and the manner of his going sug- 

 gests more the steady sinking of 

 some object, than digging in. 



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