An English In Kentucky


















March 13th 2010    Tim Candler

    Mole conferences are irregular subterranean affairs.   There is heavy drinking, lechery, blue movies and occasionally there is bribery.   Sometimes exchange becomes heated.   Conference leaders struggle to maintain order as younger Moles pound tables and chant, "No To Vegetarians." 

    Always on the agenda is the serious business of Vole discouragement.  The wiser Moles have learned to accept the presence of Voles in their tunnels.  The younger Moles are irked by these keen-eyed and fast moving interlopers.        

    This year I am firmly on the side of younger Moles.  I think it absolutely the case that Moles should police their own tunnels.   And in my letter to conference leaders I stated that I would categorically hold the community of Moles responsible for Voles in the vegetable garden.  

    But Moles are diffident, independent minded and generally there is a reason they take not the slightest notice of my views.  Yesterday I spotted a patch of grass heave, and I guessed at the preparatory work beneath.   Stealthy I was with the mattock and like a mental patient I watched that same patch of grass until my eyes glazed and I became dizzy from confusion and the creep of hypothermia. 

     I have also written a letter to the community of Voles, advising them that if I find one of them inside the house again, there will be no squealing from me, there will be no collection with towel, there will be no gentle release.  There will instead be terrible consequences involving hammers or heavy weights and hard surfaces.

     Of course, she who Stamps Down Mole tunnels will call me fickle.   She will suggest that I am waving the white flag.    And she would likely be correct.

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