— Bill Murray as Carl Spackler in Caddyshack
So Nick Neptune showed up at my house a week ago Friday, and the fun began. That may have been some of the most fun I’ve had with my clothes on in a long time. I had so much fun, my Southern Alabama drawl even reappeared, and I thought it was repressed forever.
Nick Neptune, for those unfamiliar with the Felkins family’s most recent adventures, is the cosmic mole hunter in these parts. I added the cosmic part mostly for comedic purposes.
Nick owns Pappy’s Mole Service after his Uncle Pappy retired to the farm in Stewart County. Nick may just be the foremost authority on moles and how to rid people of them. And by riddance, I mean death in a good way – by explosion. Let me be clear when I say death to all moles, at least the ones underneath my yard.
So when Nick arrived two weeks ago, He was armed with his Mole Blaster 5000 – more my name for his contraption than the actual name. And I was ready to capture it all on video – Facebook Live to be more specific. For those of you currently kicking yourself for not following me, I’m @jared.felkins.lebanondemocrat.
Just to insert a little history, when we moved into our new house in April, we noticed the tunnels appearing. They progressively got worse through the summer. We tried poison mole peanuts and even smoking him out. I took to Facebook again about a month ago to seek even more remedies. Apparently bubble gum worked for others, but not against this mole. He’s a super mole.
And what’s the solution to a super mole problem? A super mole killer. Enter Nick Neptune.
I called Nick just before my last column on the subject to gain more insight on how to best rid my yard of the pesky varmint. I’m paraphrasing, but he said let him at them. How was I going to argue with that?
Fast forward to that faithful morning when Nick arrived. The smell of propane was thick in the air that morning, my friends. Actually, that’s what Nick uses, along with oxygen, to fill the tunnels with the use of his Mole Blaster 5000. A little spark, and boom.
Dirt and grass flew. There was occasional smoke and even a little fire at times. We were on the battlefield, and the enemy knew we meant business.
And while the multiple blasts attracted the curiosity of neighbors and was pretty cool and all, I wanted more. I hoped we’d actually see a blast blow the mole out of a hole to engage in some hand-to-hand combat, Nick said it simply didn’t work like that.
According to Nick, the blast created a concussion that instantly killed the mole and collapsed the tunnel, burying it. And Nick said he had about a 70-percent riddance rate without the need for a return visit. So far, I’ve been satisfied.
As Nick continued to blow up my yard – it’s not like I’m saying it was pristine Amen Corner-esque to begin with – an hour passed like it was mere minutes. It was so much fun with Nick occasionally stopping to answer some questions as I captured it all on video. Alas, I had to go do some real work at the office.
But the battle remains clear in my memory, and I appreciate Nick taking command of the fight.
And even though he’ll forever remain my enemy, my condolences to the mole. May he rest in peace – or at least pick another yard to make his home if, by chance, he did survive.
All I can say is if he did make it, he truly is one super mole.
Jared Felkins hopes at least one mole was harmed in the writing of this column. He’s also editor of The Democrat. Email him at firstname.lastname@example.org and follow him on Twitter @paperboyfelkins.