An English In Kentucky



















September 20th 2009

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    A Mole Hunter is not like a yapping Terrier.  There is no leaping to conclusions.  No call to arms followed by that dash for instruments of destruction.  There is something else.  Something almost serene in its complexity.  I know this because I live with a Mole Hunter.

    In that part of the vegetable garden which one day might grow strawberries I saw those signs of subterranean excavation.  Agitated and distraught I daintily pointed at what in my view was symptomatic of very recent mole activity.  The Mole Hunter admired my clean tee-shirt and then suggested that I must have recently been dabbling in the future strawberry bed, because it did not look like the activity of a mole to her.

    It may well be that I am so absent minded that through the course of the day I achieve great things but have insufficient recall to mark them in memory.  Possibly what I mistook for mole activity were the footsteps of this uncomfortable phenomenon, and possibly I had indeed been dabbling in the new strawberry bed.  As well, in the past month or so I might have forgotten what a mole run looks like.



    Such thoughts of course are not conducive to a sense of peaceable-ness, even in one who is wearing clean socks.  So it is more likely that moles hear language and a Mole Hunter's classic ruse is to offer no verbal or even psychical suggestion that a mole has been spotted.  Which would make sense, because when I tried once hunting mole, I was advised not to smoke during the interminable wait.  The sitting there with blade in hand.  Hours of it at awkward times of day.  And this no smoking rule because moles, apparently distrust the smell of tobacco. 

     What a Library of Congress they must have down there.  Nicely catalogued so the young mole might easily feast his intellect upon the nuances of human beings.  And quite obviously when up against such fiends the idea of mole barrier has always been preposterous.  So it is just as well there is in our armory a Mole Hunter apparently attuned to a complexity that is now fallen completely beyond my capacity to grasp. 

    Some people.  Cynical people.  People with the mental agility, and perhaps wisdom, of mollusk, might find in these Mole Hunter insights of mine several flaws.  But for an active mind that is also a proud owner of new and very elegant shoes, such disputants lack the surety of faith and will be wholly ignored.

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tim candler

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