Varmit Cong

You can add this to the "Firegirl has the weirdest stories to tell" file.

We have a mole in our yard. There are few things that makes Kevin completely LOSE IT. Moles are one of them. Especially moles that wander into the sodded yard. No, I'm not cursing Old English style...it's "bought yard". The back yard we just threw seed down and let it grow. The front yard we wanted to make it nicer, faster so we bought sod.

Once the mole made it's way from my b-i-l's yard to ours, Kevin was on the warpath. Imagine Bill Murray in Caddyshack. He was hunting the Varmit Cong.

My b-i-l is a rocking millwright. He built a mole killer, not a trap but a killer. It's a complicated series of rods and springs. Oh and a bullet.

I know, I know, I know. You're thinking what kind of redneck hick chick is Firegirl? Trust me, I'm not. Surely I have redneck roots but I can assure you that I have all my teeth and don't refer to Kevin as my Brother-Husband.

AND...what is it with bullets & this family?

The mechanism is placed over the mole hill. A potato is placed over a plunger. When the mole digs up to the potato, the potato moves and pushes the trigger. The concussion kills the mole. The bullet doesn't touch the mole, it's just the blast.

We have a garbage can over the trap so that it isn't so loud. And of course moles are nocturnal.

About 4:30 this morning we were awaken by a POW!!!! Kevin got himself a mole.

My nephew texted and said "It got him and it didn't just blow his finger off." (see: "This sh*t happens while I'm at work")