The moles and I have reached an agreement over the many years
and I’ve probably killed only one or two in a decade, though not
for want of trying: I have lost many skills. There is one molehill
near the front of the bigger shed, but it is close enough to a wild part
of the garden so I have left it there – not even levelled – being
content for it to live anywhere near. The other is just into and on the
front lawn, the two perpendicular silvery arms of the set trap not yet
splayed and letting me know that mole is dead, though the irony is it
will be the one seemingly saved in this singular expansive domain.
A while back I’d called in an expert, my stalking days no longer the
success of the past, but he’d little luck too and I found the same snare
online he used at a fraction of his cost. How so much has changed
though not the other cruelties and deeper darknesses and outbreaks
of human misery; the bigger decisions to make in being humane.