This is another of the whacky but insightful blogs written by my brother Blaine. All grievances arising from the mischaraterisation of moles and their evil intent should be addressed to the author himself as he is the one who maligns them mercilessly perhaps in his frustration in his hopeless quest to eradicate the pesky moles from his Plumstead home.
The Cape dune mole-rat, or Bathyergus suillus to give it its proper name, might be cute and cuddly to some with its soft fur, but it is a menace. This blighter grows to over 30cm long and weighs up to 1.5kg. This is a mole on steroids. This is the Arnold Schwarzenegger of moles and is only found in the western and southern areas of South Africa. In particular it is a plague in the soft sandy areas of the Cape Flats, of which Plumstead where I live forms part of. They are like piles: they are extremely irksome, difficult to get rid of and have a habit of coming back. If let loose in your garden, your prize petunias, cleverly arranged clivias and herbaceous borders dotted with the odd dope plant will soon be trashed and unresurrectible. Short of dropping a tactical nuclear bomb on them, the only other remedy is to pave the whole garden over.
Last year I waged a war against one of these terrorists with what I thought was success. Unfortunately, like Arnold who famously said, “I’ll be back!”, he did come back. On the morning of 12 October to be precise. I was dutifully do-doing my distasteful daily doggy poo parade when I turned the corner of my house and there it was – not a molehill, but a mountain.
Main picture: Moley revealed ready to destroy another suburban garden
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