Holy Moley!

So Spring has sprung here in the American South and with it all kinds of wildlife! My outside cats are taking it upon themselves to thin the numbers. Thus far, they have eliminated two squirrels (sigh), lots of mice (not so sad), and a handful of lizards (most of whom I have saved). The neighbor dog (who I will write about later) seems to have a major rodent fetish and I am no longer surprised when she comes round with small critters hanging out of her mouth. Even though they have expired, it seems to be great fun for her to throw them in the air and catch them again. And when she is done, she rolls in them. Gross.

I make it my personal mission to try to free whatever critter the great hunters have caught and it is not uncommon to see me charging through the yard yelling like a deranged nut. They usually drop whatever they have and move away. They know the routine. This is our game.

So yesterday, I saw my older cat strutting through the yard with a small rodent in her fanged grasp. And as usual, I said in my oh so sweet voice, "Here kitty, kitty...." (she falls for it every time) and when I grabbed her, she dropped it.

Baby mole about the size we found.
(Photo source unknown)

It was a baby mole. It was still alive. But probably not for long. It had puncture wounds. So I did what I always do- take the critter and put in a safe place until it... well, you know. Expires.

I had a small plastic bowl handy, so I put him there high on a cool dark shelf in our outbuilding so the cats would not get at him again. I intended to go back and remove the body later. And I went on with my business.

About 2 hours later, I went out and to my surprise, the little guy was still alive! He had bled quite a bit but was not in shock and was moving around a little. So, I put some dried leaves and other soft material in the bowl and covered him with a light cloth until I could release him later that evening when my yard patrol was not so "intense."

And of course, my four year old was helping me with all of this. I explained to her how we could not touch the baby mole because he was a wild animal. She was concerned about his wounds, so we went in the house, got a Q-tip and some Triple Antibiotic ointment and slathered him up a bit. Poor mole.

In the meantime, we came in the house and did a little mole research. We learned where they live, what they eat, and how they survive in the wild. We decided baby mole was about 2 months old (by his size)- so old enough to make it on his own.

Then we went on a scavenger hunt to try and find the mole's hole. We found it quickly! It was under a rock and when I lifted it, we saw his burrow. We decided to put the baby mole back in his hole right away. So I lifted the rock again and we slid the mole out of the bowl into the hole and I gently placed the rock back over the burrow.

But the mole didn't stay in the hole! No sooner than I replaced the rock, he reappeared out of the hole! So, we used a stick and gently directed him back into his hole. And,  a few seconds later, he reappeared out of the hole again! Darn mole!

MOLE HOLES!

So maybe this was NOT his hole. Indeed, as we looked around the yard, there must have been a dozen or so mole holes built around our large oak tree. Great! There's no telling which hole that darn mole came out of.

So back in the bowl the mole went and there he stayed until evening. At dusk, we made a little burrow in the old mulch hay under our fig bush and finally set him free. We haven't checked on him this morning but my four year old made up a song for him and tells everyone the story about how we took care of a baby mole for a day.

We'll have to buy this children's book.