There only one way to get rid of a mole!

There’s a fresh mound of chocolate-brown earth right in the middle of my allotment, as neat and round as a cottage loaf. Another one appeared overnight, and then a third by the freshly planted Swiss chard seeds. It seems I have acquired a new tenant — a mole — and while I admire its industry, I can’t pretend I’m thrilled about the redecorating.

Now, I’ve nothing against the little fellow. In fact, I rather like the idea of him tunnelling away beneath the soil like a tiny, velvet-coated miner. And although my allotment isn't always a place of orderly rows and hopeful seedlings, I don't necessarily want it to be a landscape that looks like a miniature version of the Jurassic Coast after a landslip.

Every time I spot a new mound, I’m reminded of Jasper Carrot’s old sketch about moles — you will know the one if you are old enough: “There’s only one way to get rid of a mole…” It pops into my head as I stand there with my trowel, staring at the latest eruption of earth and wondering what on earth that one way might be for a soft-hearted gardener who doesn’t want to harm a whisker on the creature’s snout.

My first attempt was what I’d call optimistic rather than effective. I planted a row of brightly coloured children’s windmills around the beds, their cheerful plastic petals spinning bravely in the breeze. The theory — gleaned from someone who once told me but I can't recall who— was that the vibration in the soil would persuade the mole to pack his bags and move to quieter pastures.

It was a lovely idea. For about three days. Then the recent high winds did what it does best and carried the windmills off across the allotments like a flock of startled parrots. I retrieved two from the hedge and never saw the others again. The mole, meanwhile, carried on as if he hadn’t even noticed the fairground had come and gone.

So here we are, me and my subterranean lodger, engaged in a polite but ongoing disagreement about property boundaries. I’d like him to find somewhere equally cosy — just not under my seedlings.

If you’ve had your own run-ins with moles and discovered a humane way to persuade them to move along, I’d love to hear it. Do share your best advice for encouraging this little digger to relocate — kindly and gently — from my allotment to pastures new.

Sue

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