They drew first blood, not me. If it is a war they want they’ve come to the right place.

Those immortal words of Johnny Rambo reveal my current state of mind. One look at my yard and you’d understand why I’ve decided to seek a more terminal solution to eradicating the moles that have decided my yard is now their yard. As they are discovering, they’ve made a fatal mistake in judgment. Unfortunately lethal solutions are hard to come by in the UK. I can smoke them out with Castor oil bombs (worked for three days but I think in the end just made them mad), or use an organic, ecofriendly mole repellent that disolves in water and that you apply through a sprayer (useless, moles rutted right under it an hour after application).

I could try the sonar option where I drive this probe in the ground, feed it four D-sized batteries and the frequency supposedly drives them crazy then drives them to the neighbors yard. What a waste. Thing costs $30 and word is the moles become used to the frequency and return – possibly deaf, but more determined than ever to turn my yard into a subterranean freeway.

So, I’ve opted for a more lethal solution, but for effective application of lethal strategies, I sought advice from someone experienced in these matters. Someone who has proven his prowess in dealing with subterranean rodents. Someone, who has the mind…of an animal.

Carl Spackler.

I’ve taken Carl’s advice and stepped up my attempt to crush my enemy. I struck a blow last week when I patiently stood sipping a cup of coffee as the waning light began to dip beyond North Downs. Suddenly, I saw the ground twitching about 15 feet in front of me. I calmly placed my mug on the deck box, slipped quietly in the shed and grabbed my spade. I stalked the spot, squatted on one knee and rehearsed the thrusting action I intended to use. Finally, and with adrenaline surging through my body, I raised the shovel and thrust it into the ground with the determination Queequeg would have thrust a harpoon into the side of Moby Dick.

And it worked! I struck a fatal blow. The sense of satisfaction at my kill left me feeling more as if I’d gone on safari and killed a lion with my bare hands. I was tempted to pull a Henry VIII and put the carcass of my enemy on a pike and publicly display it as an example to other moles as to whose dominion this really is, but decided not to gloat until I was certain the problem was solved.

Unfortunately, it isn’t. I hear moles travel in pairs and unfortunately I believe the bereaving mole remaining in my yard has decided to make my life – or at least my yard – one big rut. Frankly the challenge is not the mole. The challenge is finding a terminal solution in the bleeding heart country of England. When asking at garden centers for something lethal, I’ve gotten shocked expressions. “You barbaric Colonist!” I can practically hear blurting from their minds. “How can you be so cruel to such a tiny creature.”

Easy. Look at my yard.

After a significant amount of searching I opted for the only terminal trap I can find.A claw trap. (There are a number of lethal options in the states and I’ve used the harpoon trap with GREAT result, but unfortunately is not available in the UK). So far it has been useless. I stand a better chance of waiting for the mole to emerge and chasing it around the yard flailing at it with a shovel.

So, the war rages on and when the growing number of people ask me how I’m making it against my yard rodents, like Rambo I respond, “day by day.”

Golf can be a frustrating game…..but it can also be a game of amazing satisfaction. The pendulum swings between frustration and satisfaction from shot to shot for some of us. But when you catch that one shot just perfect, when the ball clicks off the club face and explodes through the air, reaches its apex then drops softly near its intended target, THAT’S the shot that prevents the clubs from getting tossed into the pond and leaves me checking my calendar for my next possible round.

Not sure where the below caddy comments originated but gladly pass them along. I’m not opposed to caddies at all – in fact I love the idea – but since I’d probably hear a handful of these nearly every time out, why subject myself to the deserved humiliation. Easier to use a pull cart.

The 10 Best Caddy Replies

# 10 — Golfer: “Think I’m going to drown myself in the lake.”
Caddy:  ”Think you can keep your head down that long?”

# 9 — Golfer: “I’d move heaven and earth to break 100 on this course.”
Caddy: “Try heaven, you’ve already moved most of the earth.”

# 8 — Golfer: “Do you think my game is improving?”
Caddy: “Yes sir, you miss the ball much closer now.”

# 7 — Golfer: “Do you think I can get there with a 5 iron?”
Caddy: “Eventually.”

# 6 — Golfer: “You’ve got to be the worst caddy in the world.”
Caddy: “I don’t think so sir. That would be too much of a coincidence.

# 5 — Golfer: “Please stop checking your watch all the time. It’s too
much of A distraction.”
Caddy: “It’s not a watch – it’s a compass.”

# 4 — Golfer: “How do you like my game?”
Caddy: “Very good sir, but personally, I prefer golf.

# 3 — Golfer: “Do you think it’s a sin to play on Sunday?”
Caddy: “The way you play, sir, it’s a sin on any day.”

# 2 — Golfer: “This is the worst course I’ve ever played on.”
Caddy: “This isn’t the golf course. We left that an hour ago.”

# 1 — Best Caddy Comment……………..
Golfer: “That can’t be my ball, it’s too old.”
Caddy: “It’s been a long time since we teed off, sir.”